Love Is An Antidote To Instincts
by Radiorox
Summary: What if Harm had partnered up with Mac in Paraguay instead of Webb? AKA: “The Webbs We Tangle Ourselves In.” – A whole rewrite of Season 9. COMPLETE
1. When Interests Never Fade

Title: Love Is An Antidote To Instincts

Author: Jackie

Summary: What if Harm had partnered up with Mac in Paraguay instead of Webb? AKA: "The Webbs We Tangle Ourselves In." – A whole re-write of Season 9.

MAJOR DISCLAIMER!

Alright, I don't usually go around giving away plots or putting mucho disclaimers on stories, however. . .This is to stop certain people from reading then jumping down my throat later. Not that I care, but I am tired of the whining about Harm and Mac and who's better and who gets treated worse. They are characters, they do not exist! Having said that, Harm will get tortured. It's not as detailed or graphic as one of the other stories I wrote, but, whatever. Some people need the warnings. Not elaborating more on that..

Mac will have several issues of her own. I am so not elaborating on that either.

Alright so. ..The purpose of this grand story is to exchange Webb with Harm during the Paraguayan mission. This is not just a change of character, it's a change of story. Things will happen between Harm and Mac that (THANK YOU GOD) didn't happen between Mac and Webb in their little hotel suite. Let's just say, there will be a part where that pregnancy suit gets slipped off. ;) Yes, smut! We'll get there, please hold on! Sheesh! To the gutter people and you know who you are!

Also, Sadik, won't be Sadik. Due to an inside joke between one of my buddies and I, he'll have a name change. More on that as we get there.

Anyway… here we go, enjoy!

Jackie

PS: If you don't like the new title or the old title or any title, too bad… Poor V has heard me going nuts over it. Cut us some slack! ;-)

**Chapter 1 – When Interests Never Fade**

**2145 Local  
****Harm's Apartment  
****North Of Union Station**

'_You're only like this when I have one foot out the door. Your interest fades when I might be in the position to return it.'_ The immobilizing words left Commander Harmon Rabb Junior rooted in place; his eyes lingering on the door that had been closed twenty minutes earlier. His thick fingers wrapped around the neck of the acoustic guitar he was holding, the sounds of its strings rubbing against the fret board making him cringe. It was the first sound that had reverberated in his home since Mac's words hit home. That and a guttural groan at knowing that, once again, she'd put the ball in his court and he was too scared to do a damned thing about it.

The words weren't uttered in malice and yet he couldn't possibly hurt more if he'd been belted over the head with a two-by-four.

Finally snapping out of his statue like state, he placed the guitar against the sofa and then raced across the room to grab the cordless phone. "She's insane." Actually, Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie was probably one of the sanest individuals he knew. Why she would go along with this potentially lethal mission was something he understood too perfectly. They had a duty, a service to keep the American people safe and sound. Sometimes it required that their hands get a little dirty. The bitch of it, though, was that they were just two lawyers, combat wasn't really part of the deal. Not that they hadn't ever seen combat. Flying fighter jets during Desert Storm and Desert Shield gave him more action than he really wanted. And Mac, the stories she'd told him about her time in Bosnia were truly shocking.

This mission, though, had nothing to do with JAG or the law. It was a CIA creation which meant that super-spook Clayton Webb was involved. That left a bitter taste in Harm's mouth. There had never been a case with Webb that hadn't gone awry. Too many times his ambition to be the best had nearly cost Harm and Mac's lives. What was worse, all of the missions had been sanctioned by the Secretary of the Navy – their boss. It wasn't like they could just say 'no.'

Now, things were different – Mac was going alone, Harm wouldn't be there. The thoughts of something going wrong scared the breath out of him. Not like there was anything he could do about it. When Mac set her mind to something, much like him, not even God himself could unmake their minds.

Carefully, Harm grabbed his guitar and then settled into his armchair. He'd missed her so much over the last four weeks and this was only adding to the pain in his heart. Four weeks that he'd spent locked up for a murder he didn't commit. Admiral Chegwidden, their commanding officer, had ordered his friends not to visit, to stay away in hopes that none of them would formally have to testify. He'd understood that, of course, but it still hurt. He would have given anything to see his friends, to see Mac, just once while he was in the brig.

Forcefully, he stood up and walked towards his desk where the cordless phone sat. Urges to contact. . .contact who exactly? If Mac was going, certainly the Admiral had approved and it wasn't like he could just call the man up and order him to stop Mac. "Damnit. . .Damnit Mac, why now?" Harm had been fruitlessly in love with Mac for so long, he could barely remember the first time he noticed that his feelings weren't friendly in nature. He was jealous when other men spoke to her. Upset when she was hurt or sick. He wanted to protect her, though he knew that she could stand on her own two feet. That strength combined with her beauty and kindness made his heart flutter.

The woman of his dreams had been with him for the past seven years and he was too afraid to give into his feelings. "Shit." He cursed, shaking his head in disgust. Those last four weeks had changed him greatly, made him see that he couldn't do this on his own anymore. That he needed someone close to him. That he needed Mac. The more he wrestled with his emotions, the more this feeling of unease overcame him. She couldn't go with Webb, he was certain it wouldn't end well. He couldn't lose her either and he had a sneaking suspicion that it was exactly what would happen.

Reaching for the cordless, he punched the power button as his other hand paged through the black Rolodex. Technically speaking, he didn't have to be back at JAG for another two weeks, the Admiral had only allowed him back early due to the growing amount of cases and the short supply of lawyers. _Too bad,_ he thought with a wry smile. JAG would have to deal without him and Mac because, whether anyone liked it or not, he was going on that mission. He only hoped Mac wouldn't kill him as a result, her Marine temper was a force to be reckoned with.

"My interests never faded Mac and they never will." He said out loud, glancing towards a picture of the two of them, taken a year earlier during a case in Iraq. "Get ready, Marine, I'm coming. . .Butch and Sundance ride again."

**0005 Local  
****CIA Headquarters  
****Langley, Virginia**

Something about CIA Director Stanley Kershaw reminded Harm of Admiral Chegwidden. They both had that exuding amount of presence that could scare away a wild lion with just one look. Kershaw, though, was much cooler, his voice relaxed even when it was obvious the man was less than pleased at being dragged to Langley at midnight. "I'm aware that Colonel MacKenzie and Agent Webb are heading off on a mission to Paraguay." Harm stated without preamble, then added, almost as a consolation prize, "I want in."

The sleep laden haze Kershaw was wrapped in disappeared almost instantly. It felt like he'd suddenly sobered up after a hard night of drinking. "Excuse me? You want. . .you want in?" He was clearly shocked. Not even CIA agents wanted 'in' on anything anymore, everyone was looking out for number one, too afraid of the consequences if they screwed up, which they often did. Worse yet, Rabb couldn't know the specifications of the case. Hell, only Webb knew and he was one hundred percent sure that, while MacKenzie probably had _some_ inkling of an idea, she didn't know everything and wouldn't spill to anyone. "Are you sure about this Commander?"

"Yes, sir." Stoically, Harm stood, almost as if he were standing at attention before the Admiral. It was the only way to truly get his point across. The serious of the situation, in his mind, would continue to grow unless he could, somehow, figure this all out before Mac and Webb's plane touched down in Paraguay.

Kershaw studied the officer curiously. "Is there a particular reason why?" Not that he had to ask, Rabb had the feigned indifference of a man in love. Spending years in the CIA had given him a unique quirk of reading people, especially when they didn't want to be read.

"To be brutally honest, sir. . .I don't trust Agent Webb around my partner." There was no love loss between him and Webb. Although the agent had proven to be useful in the past, Harm couldn't deny that everything the man touched turned to shit. "The Colonel and I have been involved in several of his escapades, none of which we'd survived unscathed. I'd sleep better at night if I was there to watch their backs."

"I really could care less how well you sleep, Commander." Nevertheless, it was an intriguing angle, especially with a mole running around Langley. Kershaw knew that not even Webb was exempt from the possibilities of being a double agent. The JAG lawyer though, that was a different story all together. "However, I do agree that Agent Webb has some. . .unorthodox methods of accomplishing his tasks." He chose to leave out that the reason Webb was in Paraguay in the first place, had to do with his slew of screw ups. Harm and Mac, he knew, had a reputation for surviving just about everything. And, from one case that they worked on with Webb in Bahrain, where they pretended to be a couple, it was clear that the pair had chemistry – something that Mac and Webb lacked, in spades. Yes, why hadn't he seen this before? Oh, that's right, Rabb had been incarcerated for a crime he didn't commit. "You know, Commander, I might have a way to appease you and accomplish the mission at the same time."

The expectant look on Harm's face nearly made him chuckle. "I'm interested."

"How about you replace Webb as Jane Williams' husband?" He served it up, almost as if on a platter.

"Jane Williams? Who's Jane. . ."

Kershaw grinned widely. "Jane and Josh Williams – Colonel MacKenzie and Agent Webb."

Harm's mouth hung open for a moment as he contemplated the gift he'd seemed to be given. Playing house with Mac? It was like a dream come true. "I ah. . .thought you'd want me to look out for them. . .not."

"You and the Colonel have known each other for several years, Commander. You've been partnered together. You've surely been adversaries in the courtroom. As far as I am concerned, that's a relationship that works. You know each other's strength and weaknesses, something that Agent Webb would never know." Opening a drawer, he reached inside and took out a folder which he slid across the desk to Harm. "Here are the details on the case, the files you will need. Agent Webb has already made contacts with Raul Garcia, the dealer that he would be trading circuit boards for diamonds with."

For the first time since the conversation began, Harm slipped into a chair, slightly overwhelmed with the information that had been thrust at him. He leafed through the files and the pictures, his mind trying to wrap around the facts. "Sir, if Webb met Garcia doesn't that mean he'd be expected? Not me."

Kershaw shook his head. "We'll think of something." Standing, Kershaw came around his desk and moved to a small bar against the side wall. "Contrary to what you believe, Commander, we do cover our agents' asses, just trust me." He served up two shots of cognac and handed one to Harm. "Go home, pack some things. . .suits, Polos, conventional looking. . .get going, I need you back here soon for a quick briefing."

"What about Colonel MacKenzie and Agent Webb?" Harm's brow rose in question.

"Leave that to me." He smirked evilly. Clayton Webb wasn't going to like this change of plans, but if it kept all of their people safe, it was best for everyone. Besides, Webb didn't own him and although his family had been a staple with the CIA, the grandeur had ended with Clayton Webb, a mediocre agent who wouldn't ruin someone else's life.

An hour and a half later, Webb sat in Kershaw's office, waiting for whatever the big surprise was. "Harrison, what the hell is this about? You sent Colonel MacKenzie on without me. Do you realize how bad that looks?" Not that Mac seemed to matter, in fact, she seemed relieved not to be flying with him. "I'm supposed to be her husband and husbands don't leave their very pregnant wives to. . ."

A familiar voice made him stop in mid sentence. "Hello Clay." Whipping around, Clayton Webb saw none other than Commander Harmon Rabb Junior in a dark blue suit and grey polo shirt.

"Rabb? What the hell are you. . .no." Clay whipped back towards Kershaw, the realization of what was about to happen coming into full play. "You can't."

"Can't I?" Kershaw challenged with a look that meant business. "I'm the deputy director of the CIA, Clayton, I can pretty much do anything."

Webb's scowl only seemed to become more pronounced as he stared between both men. "You can't! This is _my_ case!" Standing he came toe to toe with Harm whose frame towered over his own. "You're a son of a bitch, Rabb. After all of the help I've offered, this is how you repay it?" Turning back to Kershaw with anger evident in his face Webb reached into his pocket and tossed his CIA badge towards the director. "Screw you. . .You stick me in some fucking jungle and then. . ."

Kershaw took the badge and tossed it back towards Webb. "You are still on the case, Clayton. . .Just not as Colonel MacKenzie's husband. . .That position will be filled by Commander Rabb, and if you think of objecting I will make sure you never work in this town again." He was bullying Webb intentionally. Though the logical choice would be to completely replace the man, there were things that Webb knew which needed to be passed on to Rabb. "Now, you and the Commander will fly to Paraguay _together._ You will use that time to bring him up to speed on the case. . .Am I clear?"

As an answer Webb tossed his hands angrily up in the air. "You leave me no choice. . .I assume you will be in contact with the new cover story?"

"That is correct."

"Uh, Director Kershaw, there is one snag." Harm said suddenly with concern. "Admiral Chegwidden doesn't know I am here. In fact, I'm expected in the office tomorrow. . .ah, this morning."

The man didn't quite seem perturbed by the notion at all. "Good, then the Admiral will believe it was my idea." When neither man questioned any other aspect of this new plan, he waved them off. "Get going Gentlemen, your plane leaves in an hour and a half. . . Clayton, once you arrive, stay in contact with Edward Hardy, he'll be expecting you. Please fill him in."

Taking his bags, Harm followed Webb out of Kershaw's office and through the maze of corridors that made up the CIA headquarters. "You are an idiot, Rabb, you know that?" Webb stepped into his office, flicked on a light and made his way to a small armoire where he took out a box. Removing a keychain from his pant pocket, he slipped a key into the lock of the box which, once opened, revealed a collection of different passports and other methods of identification. He removed a passport and ID, then slipped them into his breast pocket. "You do realize that Mac will probably be pissed off at you for this?"

"Well, that's just too bad, isn't it?" Harm said, more out of defense than anything else. In all honesty, that was the only thing that he'd thought about on the drive home and then back.

Mac was going to kill him.


	2. Mr and Mrs Williams

**Wow! **I have to say that the reviews were overwhelming, didn't think that many people were interested in my little story. Thanks for all of the reviews gang, I shall respond once I have a chance to. Thanks so much!

Enjoy!  
Jackie

**Chapter 2 – Mr and Mrs. Williams**

**1625 Local  
****Hotel Nuevo Simpatico  
****Ciudad Del Este, Paraguay**

Reaching into a small straw purse, Mac pulled out a crisp five dollar bill and handed it to the young man who'd so dutifully carried all of her bags into the hotel room. "Gracias." She said, grateful, for the first time that she wore the bulky pregnancy suit. It had helped her to avoid problems with the front desk, who were expecting a Mr. Williams to accompany his, seemingly, very pregnant wife. The manager had just about bent over backwards to get her accommodated, offering herbal tea while her room was prepared.

Webb had told her that they'd been given a corner suite, one that would overlook the streets of Ciudad Del Este. It was the prime spot should they have to use one of the high powered, muffled shot guns that she expected to lay hidden, disassembled inside the bathroom cabinet. Taking a breath, she sat at the edge of the large king sized bed, cringing at the thoughts of having to sleep anywhere near Clayton Webb. "I'm so taking the couch." She said without much thought on the subject. Pregnant or not, this 'wife' wasn't going to sleep anywhere near her 'husband.'

The temptation to remove the suit was gnawing at her. Being locked up inside the room afforded her the privacy that she desired. However, Webb had reminded her, before he'd run off to Langley, that she had a part to play. _"I'm no actress."_ She'd pointed out to him with a smirk and yet, she _felt_ pregnant. During the flight over, she'd found her hands resting over her, fake, protruding belly. She'd rubbed the area absentmindedly; her thoughts on the future and the baby that she and Harm had pledged to have together. While she didn't want to have a child with Harm because of some silly deal, created in a time when she'd been utterly vulnerable in his presence, Mac would take whatever she could get. She wanted all of him, of course, but the more time went by the more she'd resigned to the fact that it just wasn't meant to be.

Not that she thought they were meant to be with anyone else, mind you, she couldn't quite see either of them settled down with anyone else. But a baby between them would be cherished, loved, and Harm would be such a perfect father. That was something, wasn't it? Actually, it was more than something, it was enough. "If he even wants to have a baby with you anymore, Mac." She voiced her thoughts sadly, not wanting to remember that he'd all but hidden the Singer investigation and the paternity of her baby. While she couldn't fathom that Harm had been intimate with Singer, she had to admit, he had acted guilty.

Sighing, she stood up, cursing under her breath as the bulge made it just a little difficult to stand like a normal person. Everything seemed to bother her, even the first class seats which afforded her some space, but were still a bitch to get out of without help. It was a good suit, she'd learned early on when Rosa, the woman at Langley, had helped her dress and she'd felt the enormous weight. Unlike a real pregnant woman, who had months to become accustomed to the weight and the larger belly, she had to learn to cope in only hours.

Rosa had given her a few pointers, stating that pregnant women needed to move a little slower and tended to use the bathroom much more frequently than non-pregnant women. So, Mac had done her part, heading to the plane's restroom a good three times before she transferred planes in Argentina. At least four people had pointed out that, in her condition, she shouldn't be flying. Mac had brushed it away with a smile and hid her annoyance gracefully. _Damn Webb!_ She'd thought over and over again, wishing he'd have thought of something a little easier. Pointers or not, she had no real clue what the hell to do, how the hell to act with a belly that big! Too bad she couldn't have run all of this by Harriet before leaving for Paraguay.

She didn't even know how many months pregnant she was supposed to be. "By the size of this stupid thing. . ." Mac said, placing her hand over the protruding belly. "Six months? Seven?" _Definitely seven!_ She decided with a nod. Yup, in her 'condition' she was probably too pregnant to travel. "Aww hell, suck it up Mac. . .erm, Jane."

Jane Williams, bleh! She so did not look like any Jane she knew. Moving towards her bags, Mac ruffled through their contents pulling out one of the three books on diamonds that CIA jewelry expert, Ian Van Duyn had supplied her with. "_The A, B, Cs of Diamonds_. . ." She snorted at the title. "Sounds like a children's book." Shrugging, she situated herself on the sofa and leafed past the epilogue and towards chapter one. She'd been known to read several books at a time so this, in theory, was a piece of cake. It would have been nice to have a start on the book during the fifteen hour plane ride. However, it just didn't look good for a 'diamond expert' to be leafing through such things.

With a frown, she raised her hand up to her neck, brushing her fingers over the area where a stunning diamond necklace once had been. Webb had decided it would be safer traveling with him rather than a woman who was traveling alone. He'd taken the diamond engagement ring as well, leaving only a diamond wedding band in order to thwart interest away from his beautiful 'wife.' Not that it mattered, she figured that no man would be interested in getting involved with a pregnant woman.

Oh, how wrong she had been. At the airport in Argentina, she'd received more than one flirtatious smile and the men just seemed to bend over backwards helping her get from point A to point B. It was amusing up until the point that Mac remembered she was 'pregnant.' After that, the amusement faded and she saw the men for what they all seemed to be – perverts.

Shifting slightly, she settled more comfortably into the couch while she waited for her 'husband' to make his appearance. The last thing Mac thought about before letting the book capture her full attention was Harm. Leaving him the way that she did had been horrible. Worse still were the things that she'd said. _'You're only like this when I have one foot out the door. Your interest fades when I might be in the position to return it.'_ While she may have been correct in her assumption, Mac knew, for certain, that she too was guilty of the same crime. "If I get out of this alive. . ." No, not if, but when. "When I get back home, I promise you I'll try again. Damnit, if only you knew how much I love you."

If only she knew what he felt for her. There was some love, of course, years of being close friends didn't come without some form of love. But, she wasn't looking for just a friend. She wanted him as a lover, a partner. . .a husband? She wanted the whole package, but was willing to accept whatever pieces she could get. "Lord help us."

**1845 Local  
****Guarani International Airport  
****Ciudad Del Este, Paraguay**

"Thank you, God." No plane flight had ever seemed _this_ long to Harm. He wasn't sure if it was some sick form of punishment or if the CIA really was _that _cheap, but he'd just spent the last fifteen hours, traveling in the tight confines of coach, sitting next to one Clayton Webb who'd been sawing wood for a good portion of the flight. "Webb, how the hell do you get things done covertly, anyway?"

Shooting Harm an annoyed look, he stopped in front of the baggage claim area just as their luggage began that dizzying cycle on the carriage. "By that you mean?" The question in itself was absolutely odd, if anything Harm and Mac knew damned well how things worked.

"The snoring." Harm pointed out with a grin. "You sound like you're swallowing a small fury animal. . .I mean, you scared the hell out of the flight attendant."

"Laugh it all up, Rabb." Not that Harm wasn't right, in the past he'd had to employ all medical and over the counter remedies to help with his snoring issue. More than once it had been called to his attention. "Then again, let me not stop you from enjoying yourself because the moment Mac sees you, she's going to skin you alive. . .Too bad I won't be there to watch." He smirked as Harm's amused expression became one of true concern.

"I'll worry about Mac, Webb. . .Just do whatever it is you do and try not to get us killed in the process." No, he didn't hate the agent, only the methods that he used. The CIA had a long standing image of being just a little south of ruthless and Webb had, through the years, become just another person who was molded to fit their needs. The one thing he never understood was how such a mama's boy could do this for a living. It really hadn't been that long ago when a bumbling Clayton Webb had almost gotten his six shot off in Columbia. His introspection had allowed for Harm to completely miss his luggage.

Webb reached for his two bags and placed them at his feet as they waited for Harm's to circle around once more. "Pay attention, will you? And before you start making accusations, remember, if anything happens to Mac it's _your_ fault not _mine._" He whispered with agitated conviction as if he knew, for certain, that Mac would be better off with him. "I know the parameters of this operation, you don't. . .You aren't as nearly prepared. That Wild Bill, slash, knight in shining armor routine will only get you so far and what it's going to get is you killed."

Fire bubbled through Harm's veins and he twitched as he tried to keep himself from throttling the pompous ass that never ceased to change. Instead, he focused on grabbing his luggage this time around. "I'll have you know that the safety of my partner comes _before_ my own, Clay." He grunted taking a bag in each hand and then stepping away. "And it's Butch Cassidy, not Wild Bill."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Confused, Webb remained rooted in place as Harm confidently walked out of the terminal.

**1920 Local  
****Hotel Nuevo Simpatico  
****Ciudad Del Este, Paraguay**

Falling asleep had never been Mac's intention, but the lack of entertainment and a rather exhausting flight and having to wear the stupid pregnancy suit had, inevitably, sent her into a slumber. It was a rustle at the door and a jostling of the door handle that woke her. Momentarily unaware that she was not in her apartment, Mac automatically reached for the side arm she kept hidden in a side drawer of the coffee table. It was, as she moved forward and the belly prevented her from finishing the movement, that Mac realized where she was. "Shit." She swore softly, mentally cursing Webb for not allowing her to carry a weapon.

On the way to the airport, he'd pointed out that the pregnancy suit was different from the empathy suits that were often given in order to simulate pregnancy. This was special issue, carried by female field operatives in both the CIA and FBI. There was a secret pouch that could be accessed through the side of the belly and within the padding several things could be hidden, including weapons or, more specifically, a .9mm pistol and a couple of clips.

Wisely, he'd opted not to travel with a pistol on him and, as a result, Mac was also unarmed. Webb had promised that the weapons would be delivered to the room at some point, but never elaborated on who the courier would be. This was also a risky mission, she'd reminded herself over and over again which only heightened her need for self preservation.

Another jostling of the door handle had her killing the lights and searching for something that she could use to defend herself, if the need arose. Opting for the lamp, she yanked it out of the receptacle and quickly went around the sofa and stood behind the door to wait for her visitor. The figure that stepped in was definitely male and, by the size of him, it was not Webb. Remaining behind the door, she peaked through the side as another man, short and thin, waltzed in rambling in Spanish. "Señor, perdon pero no puedo escontrar la lampara. . .Eh, no light." He tried in his best effort at English, explaining that without the lamp there would be no light.

"There isn't another light in this whole suite?" The taller man spoke and Mac's heart stopped for a brief moment. _Can't be,_ she thought, knowing full well who the owner of that voice was. _No way in hell!_ As the seconds ticked, she toyed with the ideas of Harm causing her to finally lose her mind and chose to believe what she was hearing, enough so that she stepped out of her hiding place.

"Si en el cuarto. . .el, bedroom" The bellboy stepped through the suite, flipping the switch and bathing most of the room with a bright light. Turning around he spotted Mac standing adjacent to the open hotel room door holding the lamp. "Eh, Señora Williams. . .someting wrong?"

Mac smiled shyly and placed the lamp back on the table. "I bumped into the table and the lamp fell." She said to the younger man. "I'm okay. I'm fine." But, even as she said so, her eyes were casting a whole different emotion towards Harm. Rage, maybe? No, not that. Anger, probably. The want to kill him, most definitely.

Just like every other bellboy in the world, he ignored the strange on goings of hotel guests that served as funny stories when the staff members came together for parties and get togethers. "Bien. Bien." With a flourish, he took the lamp's cable and plugged it back into the receptacle, then smiled eagerly at Harm, hoping to receive a big tip as compensation.

Reaching into his pocket, Harm gave the young man a hefty tip and smiled brightly. "Gracias, Carlos. That will be all." He waited for the door to close before turning around to face Mac. Seconds earlier she'd seemed angry, rabid even. Now, he wasn't too sure how to identify the slight tint to her cheeks nor the deer-in-the-headlights look. No, he realized with a final study, she was definitely pissed. "Mac."

"Jane." She pointed out with a tone of voice that left no room for wondering at her current emotional state. "Jane Williams."

Harm held his hands up in defense, then took two steps closer to her. "Look, I know you might be angry with me right now, but I. . ."

"What the hell are you doing here?" She whispered. Well, it was more like a whispered yell, anything louder would have been severely noticed and that was the last thing they needed to be. "Where's Webb?"

"Webb's. . ." He tried to answer, but was immediately cut off with another question.

"How the hell did you get here?"

"Well I, went to. . ."

"Do you even know what's going on?"

"I have an. . ."

Her last frantic question made his head spin. "Does the Admiral know you are here?"

"Woah, woah, woah." With a wave of his hand, he stopped her questioning. "I just hopped off of a fifteen hour flight." Taking a breath, Harm removed his sports jacket and settled himself into the sofa with a heavy sigh. "Just gimme a second." He leaned his head into the back of the sofa and relaxed momentarily. Okay, so far so good. She hadn't immediately ripped his head off, then again, she didn't crash into his arms either. Clearly she wasn't pleased, but was doing her best to bite her tongue. However, the space between them was quickly spreading and after all of the dark thoughts he'd had about her mission, space wasn't something he could afford at the moment.

For her part, Mac stood rooted in place, part of her unbelieving the current change of events. Though he hadn't explained. . .anything, really, she wouldn't be too surprised to know that Webb was off of the mission. How Harm was involved confused her greatly. Was he playing hubby now? The soon-to-be-dad of a fake belly? The man who would willingly drag his wife through the jungle because she was a diamond expert to his being an arms dealer. Sighing, she brought a hand up and pinched her nose, a sudden headache making its presences known. "Can you, at least, explain how you got here?"

Raising his head, Harm stared pointedly at her. Not sleeping in the plane or the night before, combined with the sleepless month he'd spent in the brig, was starting to take its toll. "By plane."

"Funny." Relenting her guarded position, Mac slid into the large arm chair, waiting for the answers she needed. She was surprised when he sat up to regard her with a sheepish grin. Harm didn't really have to say a word because she knew, just by the look in his eyes, why he was sitting across from her now. "You're replacing Webb, aren't you?"

Harm nodded. "Yes and before you go on the defensive . . .something felt wrong about this. . .about you being here with him."

Christ, did he really say that to her without the cryptic wording that she'd coined 'Rabb-Speak'? Was he jealous? "The Admiral doesn't know, does he?"

That sheepish grin widened slightly. "A month apart and we're still on the same wavelength? Or is this just another rip in the time-space continuum?" He teased, but rather, was impressed that four weeks in the brig hadn't snapped whatever synch they seemed to be in. True, both of their times on the bench had thinned the imaginary string that tied them together. He acted like an ass and, as a result, was on the receiving end of her ire. Harm wouldn't be Harm if he didn't know what buttons to push and when to push them. However, sometimes he found that pushing Mac's buttons just wasn't fun anymore. If she did something for him he wanted it to be because she really wanted to. "By now Chegwidden must know, but he wasn't informed by me." Coming to his feet, he crossed the room, stopping at the small bar and refrigerator to pull out two bottles of water.

One he handed to Mac, the other he cracked open and took a gulp from. "I went to Kershaw last night. . ." Stopping for a moment he furled his brow attempting to assemble a correct timeframe of when his meeting with Kershaw occurred. The lack of sleep was scrambling his thought processes. "At least, I think it was last night. . .anyway. . .he liked the idea of me being a part of the case. Something about you and I working well together and Webb being. . .well, Webb."

"And just how did he come to that conclusion? Surely, if he thought you were the better man for the job, he'd have tapped you before I left, dontcha think?"

While her tone had now ceased to be one of anger, there was still that inquisitiveness that he'd yet to satisfy. A no-nonsense timbre that Harm knew better than to play with. As much as he'd been accused of having problems 'letting go' both professionally and personally, so did she. "I may have had something to do with it. Suffice to say, I'm your husband."

_Damn!_ It was a pure miracle that she hadn't said it out loud, as it was, she did drop the water bottle, its contents creating a puddle on the floor. "Damnit."

"I'll get that." If he was surprised at her obviously flustered reaction, Harm didn't say anything. Well, then again, when you had an egomaniacal grin in place, words were far from necessary.

"No, I've got it."

"Ouch!"

"Oww!"

Their collective expectative was a result of their midair collision. Slightly dazed, Mac came to her knees, her hand coming to her forehead. "You okay?" Harm asked, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. There was an air of familiarity. Of course there was, it had been nearly a year earlier when a similar act occurred. This time though, they weren't diving after a quarter nor were they about to head out to the middle of no where to prosecute against a terrorist. Well, okay, so maybe things weren't _that _much different. One thing was for sure, a year ago, he wasn't playing her husband.

"I'm fine." Glancing up at him, Mac was unprepared for the look of concern that washed over her. Something in him had changed in the last year. Whether it was a good or bad thing, she wasn't too sure. Hopefully, she would become one of the changes in his life – a good change. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't prefer you to. . ." She swallowed, changing her wording before they sounded too cold and professional. No, he wasn't just 'playing' her husband, for all intents and purposes, he _was_ her husband. The man already knew more about her than any of her significant others combined would ever know. Did that count for anything past being 'best friends', she couldn't say. But, there had to be a single discernable reason why they always seemed to come back to each other. "You and I, we have a history. . .We'd be more believable as a. .. couple."

"And we'll keep each other safe." It didn't hurt that he'd kissed her a good three times in the past, either. All the kisses, in his opinion, were all too short. Harm wouldn't be a normal heterosexual male if he didn't consider the possibilities of kissing her a fourth time - as her 'husband'. Pretend or not, he was willing to make the best of it, for the sake of duty. _Yeah, right, Hammer! There is nothing dutiful about what you want to do to her._

After the spill was cleaned, Harm offered his hands to help Mac up, which she gratefully took. "Thanks. . .I feel like the Goodyear Blimp." Ah, and surely he would quip her on that, probably saying something about her looking like one too.

However, a genuine smile took her completely by surprise. "You look beautiful. I think a real pregnancy would suit you." She blushed slightly and it was then that Harm had realized he was still holding her hands, something about it felt right. Too right. So he did what was dictated in their operating instructions and backed off, releasing her hands. Had it been any other woman he would have thought that she seemed displeased by that action. But, this wasn't just any other woman, this was Mac – the only woman in his life that he couldn't quite figure out. Why was that? Whoever came up with that line about love making people crazy just didn't know the first thing about it. He wasn't crazy though, rather, bursting at the seams to find a way to tell her what he felt. But, he couldn't and wouldn't. Chivalry be damned. "How about we order some room service? I'll fill you in on the particulars."

As usual, that sliver of hope was just that – hope – and nothing more. What did she expect anyway? That _this_ case, unlike all of the others, would be the turning point when they would figure it all out? No, that was foolish because, once upon a time he'd told her something about location not changing who they were. It was the single worst blow she'd ever taken from any man she'd known. A clear indicator that though he was attracted to her, there was no substance for a relationship. And then, a year and a half later, he'd kissed her, desperately, completely. Talk about sending mixed signals!

Would there ever be more? Mac was starting to doubt it. _Take what you can get, Mac, even if it's just pretend. _"Sounds good. I only know what Webb told me before leaving, which isn't much. I don't think that filling me in on the who's, what's, when's and where's was ever part of the equation."

"It wasn't." Harm assured. "No one at Langley thought that it was 'need-to-know' when it came down to you." That little tidbit all on its own angered him beyond the point of reason. Why would you keep an operative in the dark? And that is what she was at the moment – an operative for the CIA. Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie, USMC, just wasn't there for the duration of the mission. "I'll call room service."

During their meal, Harm had discussed the paperwork that was thrust at him as well as the particulars. He would now be her husband – Josh Williams – an arms dealer had an informant who was portraying him in order to check out the deal beforehand.

"I assume that Garcia would want to meet with us first, before the exchange."

"Probably, Webb said he'd be in contact with . . ." A hard knock on the door startled them both. "Are you expecting someone?" Harm asked, coming to his feet and heading towards the door. He pressed his palms against his torso looking for. . .for. . .what exactly? They didn't have a weapon.

"Harm, be careful." Mac was standing as well, considering using the lamp again. The lack of information from Webb truly had her concerned. Did their contacts know they were at the hotel? Would they try to kidnap them or worse, kill them over the circuit boards? Webb had, in no uncertain terms, told her that this mission would be dangerous, but he never explained just how dangerous.

"Quien es?" He asked, the response he received was truly disconcerting.

"Soy Alvaro Mendoza. Mr. Webb has sent me." A muffled male voice, from the other side of the door said. "I have a few things that you may need, Mr. Williams." With a nod Mac assured him that it was alright. Harm undid the lock and removed the chain then stepped back as a Latin male with dark features and dark hair stepped inside. He was dressed like a bellhop. Alvaro stepped inside, closing and locking the door behind him as he went. "Commander Rabb." He offered his hand to Harm, shaking it briefly before turning to Mac. "Colonel MacKenzie. . .Mr. Webb contacted me about the change in the situation." He said in heavy accented English. "I'll be your driver while you are in Paraguay and also your contact should you need to speak to Mr. Webb. Oh, yes, I almost forgot. . .perdon." He gave his apology and stepped past Harm and Mac towards a painting in the bedroom. From behind, he pulled out three pistols which were then placed on the bed. He then walked swiftly into the bathroom pulling out pieces of a high powered, military issued rifle from under the basin. Those too were placed on the bed. "You know how to assemble?"

Mac nodded. "Yes."

"Good, you'll be contacted shortly. Señor Webb is waiting for information from Langley." With a nod in their general direction, he took the cart with dirty plates and began to wheel it towards the door. "Buenas noches." He was gone just as quickly as he came in.

"Did you find anything odd about that?" Mac asked Harm who walked towards the bed to take a peak at the weapons. She joined him, staring down at one of the pistols which was truly an oddity. At least, it was for her. "Pink? The gun is pink!" She picked up the .9mm pistol, noting that while the steel and alloy parts were dark blue, the handle was decisively, "Pink? I guess this one is mine, then."

A brow rose as Harm's eyes glanced up and down her figure with amusement. "And where are you going to stick a .9mm, Mac?"

Grinning mischievously, she patted her belly. "There's a spot in the middle that can hold a variety of things." She pointed out, then reached for the clip which she slid into place. "I'll be right back."

Harm shook his head in amusement, then proceeded to slip the clips in the other pistols. He placed one under the pillow of 'his side' of the bed and the other inside of the night table. The rifle was a little bit more difficult to conceal, until he found the protective cloth that was pinned to the bottom of the sofa. Working out one of the clips, he pulled it free, then slid the rifle up and unto a wooden slat that held the cloth. "All done." He came up quickly, his head hitting the coffee table as he tried to turn towards Mac.

"Owww." He rubbed furiously at the spot which had hit the table and then managed to straighten himself up. "Dumb table." He muttered, then allowed his gaze to stop on Mac. She was standing in front of a full length mirror watching her reflection. Quietly, he moved into the bedroom, admiring from afar the beauty that she was. She made quite a picture with the protruding round belly, her hands lovingly stroking over the fullness as if she were really soothing a child. . .their child. Carefully, he returned to the living room, rifling through his carry on bag from which he pulled out two velvet boxes – one large, flat square one and a smaller type that would hold a ring.


	3. The Strike Of Mr Culebra

Wow! Thanks again for the feedback! This posting is going to be a little slow until I can get over a hump in Chapters 4 and 9. I'm calling it "Selective Writers Block." Anyway, you shippers are gonna love this part and then be all like "DAMNIT!" ;)

Enjoy!  
Jackie

**Chapter 3 – The Strike Of Mr. Culebra**

**1955 Local  
****Hotel Nuevo Simpatico  
****Ciudad Del Este, Paraguay**

Harm placed the small velvet box in his pocket, choosing to open the square box. He gently took out a stunning diamond necklace that Webb had entrusted to his care. Part of Mac's cover as a diamond expert was to blatantly flaunt her knowledge, though, he felt it was a bit reckless to have a woman, a pregnant woman, trudging around the jungle wearing half a million dollars around her neck. Coming up behind her, his body only inches away from her own, Harm placed necklace at her throat causing her to jump slightly.

"Jesus, Harm, you scared the shit out of me." Mac said, a slight blush creeping over her features. She'd been indulging in a fantasy and had probably been caught doing so. He probably thought of her as manic and if she had any hopes of ever snagging him, this wasn't the way to go about it. Staring at their reflection through the mirror, her eyes focused on him, noticing with surprise that he was staring at her almost. . .lovingly?

A warm smile graced Harm's features as he finished locking the clasp of the necklace. "There you go. . .Beautiful."

"Yes, it is." Her hand brushed over the necklace. Too bad she couldn't keep it. Not that she had much use for it anyway, it certainly wouldn't go with dogtags and Marine Greens.

Harm's smile only widened and his eyes took a darker shade. "I was talking about _you_, not the necklace." Not quite sure how they got there, he found his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs stroking her flesh lightly.

Mac's breath caught in her throat. Despite the countless innuendos and slight flirtation between them, he'd rarely openly complimented her looks. It left her at a loss for words. "I ah. . .thanks." She should have moved away from him. Having Harm so close to her was turning her brain to mush, and it didn't help that his thumbs were gently stroking her bare arms. Turning her full attention to their reflections, she saw his hands slide down her arms leaving a trail of heat in their midst.

"I mean it, Mac. . .You're gorgeous." His voice had taken a husky tone, his body responding in ways that he'd never encountered before. This was all automatic, as if something had finally snapped inside of him and all he could do was feel. His arms encircled her waist, hands lying gently on the full belly. If he didn't apply much pressure, his mind would believe that this was real, that she was carrying their child. Harm felt Mac's body leaning against him now, their eyes meeting each other's gaze through the mirror.

Her own hands found a life of their own, gently coming to rest on his larger ones at her belly. They looked like they belonged together, as if God had created Harm only for her. In all of the years that she longed and ached for him, it never quite registered just how _good_ they looked together. It was a wonder why so many people tended to freeze when the two of them walked into a room. Now she understood it – the chemistry was undeniable. "We look good together." Mac said absentmindedly and found that she wasn't embarrassed to admit it. Truth be told, she was tired of the push and pull. Even if all of this was an act for the mission, she was determined to give into it and live with the heartache later.

Just when she thought he would turn away, she felt Harm's hold tighten slightly. "Yeah, we do. Almost like a real family." Then again, she _was_ his family, at least it felt like that to him. His heart was thundering against his chest, threatening to break free when he felt Mac lean even more against him. Her backside was nuzzling just a little too close to his groin and, at any second, he could see Mac turning around and slapping him. Mentally shrugging, he gave into the feeling of her in his arms. He'd be willing to take a beating if it meant getting to hold her just a bit longer.

"Makes you think. . .Little AJ's birthday is just a year away." She smiled, then bit her lower lip. She'd said too much and the last time a notion about their five year deal had come up, he'd back peddled his way around a real conversation which wasn't his intention at all.

Damnit, if only he could have told her that he didn't want to wait a year. Not that he wanted to get her pregnant just yet, Harm had always dreamed of enjoying a nice, long courtship between the two of them. A time for him and Mac to really get to know each other as lovers before taking the next logical step. Then again, maybe she didn't want a relationship with him and only saw him as a donor. For all he knew, Mac's plans on having a baby with him relied on nothing more than a trip to the sperm bank and invitro fertilization. But, he didn't want that. Above and beyond the picket white fence and the two point five children, Harm just wanted Mac. And if they were going to create a life, it had to be the good old fashioned way – preferably with someone who loved him back.

Shifting again in his arms, he felt her brush against his groin, the motion eliciting a soft groan from him. Without even trying, Mac was seducing him. It didn't help that she smelled so damned good. The perfume she wore, he knew quite well, a Victoria's Secret original named _Succulent_. He'd given it to her for Christmas and never regretted a moment of it. The times she'd worn the scent to JAG were his absolute favorites. If she'd step into his office the scent would linger, leaving him to wonder how a mixture of _Succulent_ and Sarah MacKenzie would smell on his bed sheets. Lowering his head to her neck, Harm took a deep breath, inhaling the intoxicating scent that was slowly stroking the fire within him.

Mac closed her eyes when she felt the tip of his nose caress her skin. Taking a shaky breath, she arched her back against him, hoping this was more than a dream. His breath tickled her skin. A wave of desire crashed over when his lips came down on the curve of her neck, just above the diamond necklace. With slivered eyes, she glanced up at their reflection. Harm's hands were wrapped up with her own, his arms around her waist, his eyes closed with his head dipped to the crook of her neck.

Harm placed a barely there kiss on her neck, pausing momentarily only to raise his eyes to the mirror. He caught Mac's heated gaze, her parted lips and a want in her eyes that he hadn't seen since that night on the Admiral's porch. Surprising both of them, she removed her hand from his and reached up behind his head, urging him to continue the delicate ministrations. If his heart was hammering against his chest before, now Harm expected it to leap out at any moment.

He'd never had trouble with women. Quite the contrary, most of them were so willing it was pathetic at times. But Mac wasn't just some woman, he cared for her beyond all comprehendible belief. He loved her and wasn't willing to ruin their friendship just to satisfy a need. At least, that was his former way of thinking. Now, it seemed as if they were on the same page, her urging him to continue.

She moaned softly when Harm's tongue darted out from between his lips, licking a sensitive spot. Mac bit her lower lip when he took her earlobe between his teeth and sucked softly. She arched herself against him, feeling the hardness of him against her lower back. Was she really doing that to him? Did he really want her as much as she wanted him? _Please don't let this be a dream_. She thought with a sigh when his lips trailed down to her collar bone and then upwards again.

Turning her head to the side, she captured his lips for a brief, timeless moment. A familiarity was there that spanned between the two intimate kisses they'd shared in the past. When she pulled back, Mac was relieved to find his heady gaze and not the shock from the moment. This time, the kiss was right and wanted and needed.

It was as close to perfect as things could get given their current situation. Harm lowered his head, his mouth covering her own. The kisses became a little deeper as the flood gates began to open within. Mac felt Harm's warm tongue licking her lips, asking for entrance, a submission that she gave without hesitation. She sighed happily when Harm came around to stand in front of her, allowing him to deepen the kiss even further.

The bulge of her fake belly between them was making it difficult for him to get too close, and Mac couldn't help the low chuckle when he tried to push the pillowy material out of the way. It didn't budge of course and though he wanted to study an effective way to continue their caress, he was unwilling to stop kissing her to do so. His hands, which were wrapped around her shoulders, made the decision that he couldn't make. Almost out of their own volition, they cupped her face, ending the kisses for a brief second.

Harm's eyes conveyed the question he couldn't bring himself to ask. Damnit, he wanted her so badly that he was about to burst into flames. His eyes moved away from Mac's own and down to the black dress that she was wearing. Answering his silent question, she hiked up the dress, pulling it over her midsection, exposing the pregnancy suit. Harm's hands took over the rest of the task, pulling the dress over her head before tossing it to the side. His amused grin meant he didn't have a clue what to do with the pregnancy suit. And again, Mac helped, turning her back to him where he saw the fasteners for the suit.

He only hoped she was wearing a bra under it, Harm knew he wouldn't be able to take it slow if she was suddenly baring her whole body to him. He unfastened the suit, exposing a black, lacy bra, then pushed it off of Mac's shoulders. As it slid down her arms, Harm lowered himself, placing kisses down the length of her spine. Her surprise was evident by the soft gasp that he'd elicited from her. The suit fell to the floor with a muffled thud and Mac stepped out of her sandals, kicking them to the side along with the suit. When Harm stood back up, she moved forward, her body brushing against his until his arms wrapped around her.

Mac's lips touched his first and she allowed him to deepen the kiss as his arms brought her even closer, her breasts crushing against his chest. Her hands slid down the flank of his body, stopping just above the waistline of his trousers. Using the tips of her fingers, Mac pinched the fabric of the polo he wore then grasped it firmly as it un-tucked from his pants. She pulled the shirt upwards and Harm pulled it the rest of the way and then tossed it with her discarded clothing.

Walking them both backwards it took only a few steps before the back of Mac's legs hit the bed. She lay down and pulled Harm on top of her. Balancing his upper body on his forearms, Harm held himself just inches away from Mac, her eyes which had darkened, glanced between his eyes to his lips. Her tongue slipped out, moistening her lips in anticipation. This time the kiss was less tentative and more passionate. Mac's hands roamed down the expanse of his hard back, feeling the ripple of his muscles as he moved above her. He trailed kisses from her mouth to her cheeks, nose and then down to her neck, just above the necklace. "Oh God, Mac." Harm rasped out as her nails raked his skin gently.

"I want you." She told him, her voice husky with the raw need for him. Leaning to one side, Harm now only half lay on her body, giving one of his hands more chance to explore freely. His fingers traced her clavicle and then slid out towards her shoulder and under a bra strap which he slipped free. Moving over her, he placed a soft kiss on her shoulder, then trailed back up to her lips. Mac's hands threaded through his hair, holding him still as they kissed with more fervor and passion. Neither could help but give into caresses that they'd each been dying to feel for so long. Neither wanted to stop kissing the other, something about it felt so right, so natural, it was difficult not to indulge.

Mac gasped when Harm suddenly flipped them so that he was laying on his back, her body draped over his. She moaned into his mouth, when his hands slid down her back, seeking the elusive bra clasp. He fumbled with it almost like an inexperienced teen and then, finally, felt the fabric give. His fingers curled around the other strap, pulling it off of her shoulder. In the process, his fingers gently swept past the side of her breast and he felt Mac sigh at the touch. Somehow, she'd managed to slip between his legs, her body grinding against his growing erection with each movement. It was when he was trying to flip her onto her back that a familiar ring caught them off guard. "Shit!" Harm groaned in frustration at their impeccable sense of timing.

Accusingly, Mac stared at the telephone on the bedside table, her eyes narrowing at the unwelcome intrusion. "Ignore it." She said breathlessly then lay claim to his lips again. Her ankle wrapped around his and with very little effort she was on her back again with Harm above her. The insistent ringing, however, had snipped whatever magic had befallen them. With a heavy heart, Mac gently pulled away. "It might be important."

"Yeah, I know." Sighing, he reached for the phone and brought the receiver to his ear. "Si?" He wasn't too surprised to hear a certain spy on the other line. "What do you want, Webb?" Harm said with frustration.

(_"What the hell took you so long to answer?)_

Slipping next to Mac, Harm held the phone so that both of them could hear. "AH, well, Mac was. . .erm, Jane was in the bathroom and I was asleep." Christ, could that sound anymore pathetic?

(_"Do me a favor, get your asses down to the café, we have a few new things to go over before the buy tomorrow.")_

Harm glanced at Mac almost apologetically and a want to kill the agent stirred somewhere within. "Fine, Webb, hold your horses."

(_"It's not Webb, Mr. Williams. . .It's Mr. Culebra. . .Mr. Culebra, got that?"_)

The man was clearly irritated with the change in the mission. _Too bad!_ Harm thought, his concern for Mac still on the forefront of his mind. God only knew what would have happened if she'd been alone on this mission with Webb. "Alright, alright. We'll be down there as soon as possible." Placing the receiver back on the phone, Harm sighed and lay on his back, his eyes adjusting to a patch on the ceiling. "That was Mr. Culebra who would like to see us at the café, ASAP."

Modestly, Mac had reached for a sheet to cover her slight nakedness. "Mmm. . .I guess I'd better slip that stupid suit back on." She said with a frown, then turned to Harm. "Our timing. . ."

"Sucks." He deadpanned, then turned towards her with a smile. "Your lips are swollen."

Matching his smile, she reached out and pressed her fingers to his lips. "And yours have lipstick on them." She brushed the tint off of his lips with her thumb lamenting at their interruption. "It's not your shade." The want to kiss him again was almost overwhelming and it took a mental push for Mac to sit up and turn away. "You know, Webb is an idiot." She wrapped the sheet around her and grabbed for her bra which had slipped off of her body when trying to stand up.

Rolling out of the bed, Harm plucked the pregnancy suit off of the floor and handed it to her. "Tell me something I don't know."

Chuckling, she took the suit and high tailed to the bathroom. From inside, he could hear her voice. "He called himself Mr. Culebra."

"Yeah, so?" Harm failed to see her point in that. And what did Culebra mean, anyway? _Something in Spanish_, he knew, but the word just didn't seem to register in his mind.

Peaking her head around the door, Mac motioned for him to fetch her dress. "Thanks." Taking it from him, she slipped back inside and pushed the door foreword. "His name should have been Mr. Araña, which makes more sense. Araña means spider in Spanish. It matches better with his last name."

One thing Harm knew about Mac, if she was analyzing such trivial things, there was certainly a punch line somewhere. "Your point is?"

She emerged from the bathroom fully dressed and barefoot. "Culebra, in Spanish, means snake."

Ah, so now he understood clearly. Grinning, he pulled his shirt back on and reached for his sports jacket which was thrown over the back of the sofa. "Webb's a snake."

"Fitting, isn't it?" With a wink, Mac headed towards the door with Harm in tow.

They wound through the hotel and came to the quaint, outdoor café and to the table where Webb was sitting. "He doesn't look too happy." Mac commented while trying to hide a satisfied smirk. It's not that she hated Webb, but it was really easy to take pleasure at his displeasure.

Harm snorted, "I wouldn't be either if someone took my case away from me." Arriving at the table, he pulled a chair out for Mac, then eased it forward as she sat down. He noted an apprehensiveness from Mac at such a gesture. Before sitting, he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Is this alright, sweetheart?"

"Ah, yes. Thank you." Mac said with a shaky voice. _Damnit!_ She was supposed to be playing his wife, touches, caresses, grand gestures and even. . .kisses, she wasn't supposed to be all jittery about them. "What?" She questioned when Webb fixed a deadly gaze on her.

Leaning in, he kept his voice low so that only Harm and Mac could hear. "You two are supposed to be husband and wife, you might want to stop flinching every time you touch." He rolled his eyes in disgust. "Everyone knows you two have the hots for each other, just try to keep it business oriented and not pleasure oriented. You are here on a mission, not to play house."

"I thought you _wanted_ us to play house." Harm shot Mac a leering gaze and then turned to Webb with a mischievous grin. "You know, Webb. . .I think you are just jealous that _you _aren't the one playing house with Mac."

Preceding that statement Mac had taken a sip of water which she was now choking on. Tears filled her eyes and absentmindedly she placed a hand on her belly. "Sorry. . .Water went down the wrong tube." From under the table, she kicked Harm's shin momentarily feeling victorious when he tried not to groan in pain. "Could you just tell us what you want, Webb?" She didn't mean for the tone to sound overly snarky. Well, maybe she did, the spook had interrupted one of the most important nights of her life.

"It's Mr. _Culebra_." Sighing, he slid back into his chair noting that, for the foreseeable future, there was no one in listening distance. "Let's cut to the chase. I had a lot of damage work to do ever since Prince Charming here decided to come after his damsel in distress." He waved between Harm and Mac which only added to their growing ire for the man.

It was Mac who waved off any of Harm's attempts to one up Webb. "Now wait one goddamned minute, I am _not_ a damsel in distress. . .I am a US Marine, a good one, and if you tapped me for this mission surely you took that into account." She made her voice sound as strong as possible considering the fact that she was whispering. Harm would have commented, but seeing as she didn't gloss over his lack of Prince Charmingness, he wasn't about to deflate his own ego. "You had told me, on the way to the airport, that you never told Raul Garcia _who_ you were. That you had a feeling that if you set your cover up too well you wouldn't be able to step out of it should things change. . .Pardon me if I don't comprehend your worries about damage control."

Harm would have clapped if he didn't think it would earn him another kick in the shin. "Kershaw decided that the best cover was for me to step in as Jane Williams' husband. . .What is _your_ role in all of this?"

Webb struggled to maintain control of this savage rage within him. He wanted to throttle Rabb for sticking his nose into his business. The last hour had been nothing but damage control between himself an Langley. "Let's start with the basics and our purpose for being here, shall we?" When neither disagreed, he took a breath and leaned in. "One month ago a cargo ship was pirated just off of the coast of Argentina. While it wasn't a military vessel, it was carrying military surplus, specifically, one hundred stinger missiles. Somehow they wound up at Raul Garcia's doorstep. That's the bad part and it gets worse – Raul Garcia has a partner, one Clark White, a.k.a. – Yourlsef Caled, an international terrorist with ties to Al Queda and the number three man on the CIA's most wanted list."

Mac let out a low whistle. This was big. Bigger than her, than Harm, they were possibly going to single-handedly prevent another terrorist attack. "Where are the stingers now?"

"As of three days ago they are in Caled's possession. The problem is we don't know where he has them hidden."

Harm raised a brow in question, then settled in forward. "And how are. . ." His question came to a stop when a waitress stepped to the table and placed a coffee in front of Webb and Harm. Mac was handed some tea which Clay stated was best for her _condition._ Once the woman was gone, Harm eased back into the conversation. "How are we going to find the stingers?"

"Technically, they are going to find us." Out of his breast pocket, Webb pulled out a small circuit board, which he slid across the table to Harm. "The missiles are missing the key component that will make them fly straight."

Mac shook her head. "Hmmm, that's always a key component in missiles and in men."

Ignoring her comment, Webb pushed through with information. "The whole point of this mission was to trade the circuit boards for diamonds with Garcia. Then he would trade the circuit boards for arms with Caled. The moment they try to fire up one of the missiles it would alert us to the location and a UAV would blow them to smithereens."

"Why diamonds?" Harm asked, curious as to why that would be the currency of choice. In the past, good cold cash would do. Had things changed that much?

Mac turned to him with a smile. "I asked the same thing. . .apparently they are just easier to carry than money or arms and just as easily converted to cash."

"Makes sense. . .Now I understand the need for a diamond expert." Though, he would have preferred that Webb had taken a _real_ diamond expert, not a woman whose only experience with diamonds was one, utterly large and unnecessary engagement ring. "So, how are we going to do this? Garcia is going to be suspicious when you aren't there to make the sale."

"Oh, I'll be there, about a mile down the road and listening in." With his foot he shoved a bag towards Mac. "In there are the listening devices, you can attach them just about anywhere. They are small and inconspicuous." Sighing, he turned back to Harm with obvious distaste. "And to answer your question, tomorrow I am to meet with Garcia at this very café. But, I won't be here, you and Sarah will. . .The real Mr. Williams and his wife."

It was possible that it would work, but one thing Harm knew about a lawless country is that lives were expendable. "What guarantees do we have that he won't just shoot us on the spot?"

Webb glanced around. "It's a public place and Garcia isn't stupid. . .Just lead him to believe that you wanted to check him out before meeting with him in person. One good thing is that they are desperate for the circuit boards, they won't kill you until they have them."

"Ah, well, there's something to look forward to." Mac said with a groan and brought her hands up to her head, rubbing gently, hoping to ease the headache that was forming. "When you told me this was dangerous, you could have explained a bit more, Webb. . .You know? Added a detail or two, something along the lines of, oh, let's say 'you will likely die.'"

"I can't guarantee that this will be easy. No mission for the agency ever is. Besides, it would run smoother had Commander Knight in Shining Armor not decided to tag a long."

A caress on his knee by Mac kept Harm from jumping across the table and beating Webb into a bloody pulp. He'd used that 'Knight in Shining Armor' line earlier that day but it was only now that it really hit home. The reason, Harm knew, was because the 'damsel' was sitting right next to him. A damsel that didn't realize she needed saving. "Every case we've been on with you didn't end well."

"You're alive aren't you?"

Harm couldn't help chuckling out loud. "Oh yea, no thanks to you."

Alright, so Clayton Webb did know he had a knack of getting both himself and operatives on his mission into trouble. None of which was done purposely. This time he had hoped. . .what exactly? To get the job done? Of course, that was number one on his list. However, Webb couldn't deny that a reason for bringing Mac along was her beauty. While he didn't feel any type of romantic, love-type feelings for Mac, his body wouldn't have minded meshing with her own. "You know, Harm, you should be a little more grateful. If it wasn't for me, your brother Sergei would still be stuck in a Chechen prison. Or worse." Glancing between the two of them, he realized there was something else they needed to take into account. "Also, don't forget that if it wasn't for that Declaration of Independence case with Sarah's uncle, neither of you would have met. I single handedly brought you two together." He let that statement flow as if it were complete common knowledge. As if he half expected them to praise thanks for his meager existence.

"You're making that sound like you were playing matchmaker, Webb." If Mac were going to give thanks for meeting Harm, she'd have to start with her uncle, not some CIA – no – undersecretary to whoever the hell he was with back then. " And I assure you that the Commander and I have the utmost professional reala…"

"Sarah, you may be able to sell that to your friends since they're all a lower rank than the two of you and know not to disrespect senior officers, but it's pretty clear that you two have more than just friendly feelings for each other."

Harm felt Mac tense next to him and could practically feel the anger leeching off of her body. To calm it, he discreetly placed a hand over hers, squeezing slightly. "Look Clay, I know you are pissed off about me being here but getting into personal conversation that are, frankly, none of your business isn't helping."

While Harm was right with that, Webb wasn't ready to let it all drop, he had a point to make loud and clear. "This is a mission, not a chance for the two of you to get. . .Look, you are only _acting_ husband and wife, nothing more, nothing less. It's all pretend and I expect the two of you to use some scruples so that neither of you would get killed."

"Scruples?" Harm yelled angrily, suddenly wishing that he hadn't when the patrons of the café had turned to stare at their little group. Relaxing slightly, he lowered his voice but still kept a deadly edge. "Webb, how about you do _your_ job without meddling into ours. Better yet, crawl under a fucking rock, maybe that way this mission will be successful."

"All of my missions have been successful, Rabb. All of them."

"Ah, yes, but only because the agency doesn't bother to check into the means for success. If they knew the details, they'd permanently stick you in some hell hole."

"Harm." Mac warned, shaking her head to let it go once he turned towards her. "Webb, just drop this. . .Harm and I, we can do this."

But the CIA agent wasn't thinking about the mission anymore. His thoughts were of a case that, somehow, he'd become involved in. "You destroyed my career." He said it so softly that it was barely audible and still, Harm and Mac caught the gist of it. A cultivated accusation that neither of them could fathom.

"You sound like you actually believe that, Clay." Mac said, her eyes trying to read the emotions that were visible once his mask completely fell. "If you are referring to the Angel Shark investigation, the truth needed to come out. It was unfair to the families of the sailors for them to live on without ever knowing."

His steely gaze was more for Harm's benefit than for Mac's. In all honesty, he really didn't have a problem with her, but the Navy's poster boy, that was a whole different story all together. "They could have. But the Navy's poster boy here had to guilt me into helping you out."

Truth be told, besides the case being wrapped up and the submariner's families getting the closure they needed, Mac could clearly remember being in Harm's apartment when a tape and a TV set had magically appeared. "The SECNAV himself requested we find the truth. Did you expect Harm, Sturgis and I to just. . .disobey orders, Clay?" She was appalled that he could even suggest that the case was the end of his career. In Mac's mind, she could site at least a handful of fracas' that would attribute to career destruction.

Webb sighed deeply. "I guess I should have just walked away. After I set you up with the tape and Kershaw found out, I was pulled into his office, dressed down in front of my superiors and, as punishment, was stuck in this hell hole with no signs of getting out. . .I should have just let you deal with Catherine Gale." CIA agents seldom complained about their duty stations, they just took it and did their jobs because it was all for the greater good. But Webb knew how they operated. They knew that, even though his 'leak' was to a military man, another government worker, it was still a breach in security clearance and the orders he swore to obey. "I've broken up two arms smuggling rings since last November and I am _still_ here. . . That's why I have such a hard line on this mission. If we nail _both_ Garcia and Caled, it would be like penance from a sinner. I'd be back in Kershaw's and the agency's good graces."

During the Angel Shark investigation Harm hadn't readily considered that to get to the truth, some careers would come under fire. "When I found out you were being sent to South America it never occurred to me that it would be so permanent."

"The Angel Shark investigation was only part of the reason." He confirmed, then swirled his spoon inside the coffee cup. "The agency, as of late, has had more leaks than a sieve. I think I was sent away only to be made an example of. I don't know." He shrugged noncommittally, then stood up. "Doesn't matter either. I'll probably die here." He reached to his back pocket and pulled out a few bills which he placed on the table. "I'll call you with the meeting time tomorrow. . .Have a good evening Mr. And Mrs. Williams."

It was easy for Harm to, on occasion, dislike Clayton Webb. While he didn't outright hate him, he would agree that his collection of missions that seemed to go haywire damaged any of Clay's goodness. Especially since their current situation, one that he walked onto willingly, could have hurt someone he cared so much for. Discreetly, or so he thought, Harm watched Mac as she stretched out her neck, moving it to one side and then the other. How the hell had she become such an integral part of his life he would never know. But now she was woven into the fiber of his very being and he wouldn't want it any other way. "My interests never faded." How he managed to get those words out was beyond him. Lord knows it was the complete worst moment in time to have a serious conversation about them.

One couldn't forget what had almost happened on that bed, in the hotel room. But, to Harm, making love to Mac was just scratching the surface. There was so much he needed to tell her and so many fears for him to finish getting over. What he didn't know was that the object of his desires lived with the same fears and the same wants and needs. "Harm. . ." She trailed off, wanting to tell him that it wasn't the time or the place, but part of her was morbidly curious of the conversation. Would they actually ever get the chance to sit down and have a heart to heart? Hallmark moments weren't part of the ebb and flow that was their relationship. God only knew that she, after that Sydney fiasco, had become just as tongue tied as Harm had always been. "I know."

And with just two words, Harm felt his heart flutter and leap inside of his chest. _She knew!_ But, what did she know exactly? Did she know how he felt about her? _Really_ felt? Or did she just understand their mutual attraction. He didn't dare debate it, but instead pressed on to another matter, something that had been eating at him since she left his apartment a day prior. "Why did you take this mission?"

Mac understood the question without really thinking about it. Hell, it wouldn't be the first time she'd run away from him when things got sticky. "I wasn't running this time. And I know it sounds like I am going ton the defensive but, it's true. I wasn't running away."

"Then why?" Comprehension as to why she'd take on this mission, knowing full well that the expectation of life was nil, evaded him completely. Then again, maybe he was just as guilty as most men were in regards to women in combat. Yes, Mac was incredibly strong, weapon savvy and, God only knew, he wouldn't want anyone else looking out for him. . .But, that was just the problem. This time, she'd gone without him and he could hardly trust Webb to truly keep her safe.

But, her reasons were neither complicated nor superficial, it was all about the basic belief system that had been issued along with her Eagle, Globe an Anchor. It was something that Mac believed he couldn't fault her for. "Because it's part of who I am." Even before the words came out, Harm could distinctly hear the start of her infamous 'I'm a Marine' speech. "I'm a Marine, dangerous situations is what we are trained for, not just for pushing papers and citing legal jargon at will. . .First to fight. . . Marine first, Lawyer second. . .I know that's put me in some nasty situations, but it's who I am. . . Chegwidden even gave me an out and, I was tempted to take it. But, what if. . .I couldn't live with myself if someone else taking my place meant innocents getting hurt."

That was understandable, of course, and Harm being a military man knew all about honor and duty, but those ingrained beliefs just didn't extend over to the personal level where Mac was concerned. "I understand all of that, I do. . .But. . .It's just. . .Webb. . ."

"Would you have turned him down?"

A true lawyer, she already knew the answer even before Harm uttered a single word. "No. . .No, I wouldn't have."

"This has nothing to do with Webb. Though, I am curious as to his motives for picking me."

"You don't think it had to do with the leaks at the agency?"

While Mac was sure that was part of the scheme of things, it was just too convenient that Webb chose, of all times, that given point to tap her. "It's just the timing is off. You just got out of Leavenworth, we were short handed. . . I don't want to say he purposely came after me knowing that I would come alone this time, but it was convenient for him." Mac knew better than to believe that Webb was enamored with her. There had been the occasional male, leer type of gazes that were never quite inappropriate, but so what? He'd never acted on it. "I mean, he knows that you and I are. . .close."

Harm smiled, despite himself. It was nice to know that she still considered herself to be close to him. In all truthfulness, the whole Singer fiasco had not only hurt him, but it obviously hurt her too. "We are pretty close. . .Even though this year has been. . ."

"Crazy?" She offered for him and received a shrug and a nod as response. "Such is life in the military." But, it wasn't the military which had made their lives unrecognizable and though she didn't want to say it out loud, Mac had to admit that, this time, Harm held most of the blame. "Why didn't you tell me about Singer? Did you think I wouldn't understand?" _Didn't you trust me?_ She wanted to ask, but just couldn't for fear of what his answer would be.

Ah, questions that Harm himself had thought about time and time again. Mac was his best friend, the one person he knew he could trust. Yet, at a crucial moment in time, he didn't want her involved. Nor did he want an impartial ear or accusations that this was just another obsession of his. The primary reason though, had more to do with his ego than anything else. "I was embarrassed that Sergei chose to become involved with her. And embarrassed at how I reacted once the pieces fit."

"But the pieces didn't fit." She pointed out and shook her head. "Harm, I would have been there for you. I would have given you an impartial argument and I would have understood. . .Do you know how much it _hurt_ that you kept all of that from me?"

The fact that he hadn't even registered her anguish at his choice of omission, hadn't really registered much at all. The days leading up to Singer's murder, he barely saw Mac as it was. "I'm sorry, Mac. . .I just felt that. ..Hell, I don't know what I felt anymore. . .It was just easier to ask Manetti for help. She didn't know me well, we weren't close. . .I don't know what I was thinking, but I do know that I. . .I just didn't want to be the butt of any jokes for a mistake that Sergei made." Harm ran his hand through his hair, then turned away.

Now that Mac did understand. As much as Harm would always be the arrogant, cocky, aviator, any hit was liable to knock him off of his pedestal. "I do understand that, but I would have liked to help. . .I still want to help, if there's anything I can do." She slipped her hand into his, softly running her thumb over his knuckles.

"You're doing it." He turned his hand over so that he could thread his fingers with hers. "C'mon, I don't know about you but I haven't showered since yesterday."

Grinning, Mac allowed him to pull her up to her feet. "Gee, Harm, you sure know how to romance a girl."

- - - - - - -

AN:

Okay, so I am sure some of you were like Yourlsef Caled! Wha! Where! When!

Well, don't go off looking for your JAG tapes, you ain't gonna find the man in there.

That name was a product of two typos while chatting over MSN Messenger with my friend in Canada.

I forget what the conversation entailed but I was trying to put YOURSELF and it came out as Yourlsef (we died laughing, as I have a tendency to make really funny typos) and then moments later, I was trying to type CALLED and it came out as CALED. And I was like "Great if the FBI is watching this chat, they'll think we're talking about a terrorist or something." Hence Yourlsef Caled was born.

Now Webb meeting Garcia and Harm now being "Mr. Williams." Will be explained in the next chappie! Yay! ;)


	4. Sweet Surrender

Okay doods, sorry for the delay, busy, busy, busy. Had about four jobs last week, two that canceled GRRR and this week we've been rebuilding our bathroom. Shoot me now. Anyway... ahem This is an INTERESTING chapter. ;)

If you want the more INTERESTING (wink, wink) version. Most of you guys know the drill e-mail me radiorox(at)bellsouth(dot)net. If it looks like it's missing peices, you bet your Harm and Mac's sweet sixes that it is! ;) And you'll get a little more in the next chapter too. Grin.

OKay! Enjoy:)

**CHAPTER 4 – Sweet Surrender**

**2245 Local  
****Hotel Nuevo Simpatico  
****Ciudad Del Este, Paraguay**

Harm sat at the edge of the bed holding the pregnancy suit in his hands. The whole concept wasn't foreign to him. One of the newer additions to high school sex ed classes had been the introduction of the empathy suit. Students had to wear it around for a day or so in order to realize how difficult it would be to handle just the pregnant part of it all. He'd also heard of men wearing it during their wives' pregnancy in order to have a clue as to what they were going through. Bud wore it once. In fact, he recalled visiting and Bud opening the door with the belly strapped to him.

He chuckled slightly. "I'm never wearing one of these." Turning the suit onto its side he located the compartment where Mac's pistol was hidden. It was very well concealed, indeed. Unless you knew what you were looking for, good luck finding anything at all. He ran a hand over the swollen section and then turned his head over to the bathroom door. Mac had been in there no more than five minutes or so. "Hmmm." Standing, he walked towards the mirror and placed the belly over his own. "Weird." Biting his lower lip, he glanced towards the door one more time, Mac would never let it down if she found him wearing that thing. "Never say never." With a flourish he removed the straps then used the Velcro to hold them in place. Clearly the suits were not one size fits all. He had to squeeze his rib cage in and lean back slightly. Immediately the weight was all but destructive to his back. "Wow. . .Is this the four hundred pound version?" It was unbelievable to him that a woman could carry forty extra pounds of weight in her belly. Inconceivable, really.

A soft chuckle was coming from just outside of the bathroom, but he didn't hear it. The woman spying on him, though, could not help but take amusement from his actions. She rested against the doorjamb, her eyes gleaming. "You know. . ."

Eye wide as saucers, Harm spun around so quickly that the Velcro gave way and the belly slammed to the floor with a thud, the pistol popping out and scurrying across the floor. "Mac?"

". . .I find it cute, really. You wearing an empathy belly." She stepped just in front of him, then bent over to retrieve the suit and then the gun. Her hair was wet and slicked back and she smelled _good_, like lavender and honey. Her bedtime attire, Harm noted, was a white t-shirt and a pair of faded, dark red shorts. "All cuteness aside, I should kick your ass for dropping my gun." Mac glared playfully at him and then walked to her side of the bed with the suit, which she slipped just under the bed. Glancing back over, she found Harm rooted in place with a look of both amusement and annoyance. "Hit the showers, sailor. . .We wouldn't want any of your funk on the sheets, would we?"

For the life of him, any coy remarks just dissipated into nothingness. _It's her bare legs,_ he decided before setting himself to motion. It was clearly obvious that she wasn't wearing a bra either. Both thoughts conjured up images that were best laid to rest at the moment. Otherwise. . ._Otherwise what, Rabb?_ Despite what had nearly happened less than an hour earlier, it was highly unlikely that either of them would let it happen again. Mac, in fact, had grabbed a book from the night table and was settling in to read. That was hardly a way to properly seduce a man. _Pitty,_ he thought, studying her for a brief moment. The woman never ceased being an enigma to him. Only she could make an old t-shirt look, _sexy._ Only Mac could stop and start his emotions without much effort. The moment Harm should have been angry at her, he wasn't. True, Mac had left him off the hook rather easily. After grabbing his clothing and toiletries, he headed into the bathroom mumbling something about 'bad timing.'

Mac lay back against the pillow she'd placed against the headboard. "_Diamonds, not just a girl's best friend._ Definitely not _this_ girl's." She commented while rolling her eyes. Was it really _that_ difficult to find a woman equally qualified that knew an actual thing or two about diamonds? Sure, she'd had a crash course with their jewelry expert Van Duyn, but that is exactly what it was – a crash course. Something like cramming for the SATs – you'll pick up a few scraps of information, but all of the really important stuff disappears. She ran her fingers over the diamond necklace which its information she needed to know by heart. "91 radiant-cut diamonds. Total: 21.1 carats. The center diamond is 2.05 carats. Clarity, V-S. . .one, color G. Mounting is platinum." The mounting could have been brushed gold for all she knew. Closing her eyes, Mac rattled off the information once again, hoping to save it to memory before moving on to bigger and better things. Hopefully her diamond expertise would be a general one. Specifics she was going to have problems with.

As her fingers brushed over the necklace again, the thoughts of what should have happened just an hour earlier came to mind. She could still feel Harm's lips on hers, his hands caressing her body. His breath against her neck, just around the area where the necklace rested. She'd felt so good, womanly, sexy. . .loved. Ah, but this was Harm and it was doubtful that the Big 'L' was part of the equation. And oh, how she craved to be loved by him. Not just physically, but intimately, spiritually, with his whole being. At the very least, she knew he found her attractive, that was a plus which helped remove Mac from the 'just one of the guys' curse that Harm placed her in several years ago. Sometimes she'd wondered if he ever saw her as a woman, not just a buddy or sidekick. She worked damned hard to shake that whole 'sidekick' roll that most people tended to place her in. Though, in truth, she really didn't mind much being a Robin to his Batman nor the Sundance to his Butch, so long as Robin and Sundance had a fair shot.

Feeling eyes on her, she turned to find Harm leaning against the doorjamb to the bathroom. "You okay?" He asked when she gave him a wide eyed look.

"F-fine." She stammered, then shook her head to loosen the cobwebs.

"You sure? You seemed spaced out for a second there." He was wearing black sweat pants and had a towel, which was draped over his shoulders.

Mac couldn't quite help but look at his bare chest(, or even the cute way his hair was still sticking up all over the place from when he'd towel dried it. _Damn._ She wanted to kiss him all over again. "Uh yeah. . .well, this is. . .big."

"We'll be alright." He assured, then crossed over to reach his bag from which he produced a comb. Harm brushed it over his hair, trying to settle the spikes which were sticking up. He could feel Mac's eyes on him and smirked in satisfaction that he could keep any amount of attention on him doing the most mundane things. He'd file that away for further introspection at a more opportune moment. Reaching into his bag he pulled out a gray tank top, the one piece of clothing he'd either consciously or subconsciously didn't take into the bathroom with him. For good measure, he made a flourish of putting the garment on, flexing the right kind of muscles. That done, he took his place on the bed next to Mac, on top of the comforter that she was laying under.

Although, at times, she could be accused of being oblivious, Mac was not stupid. She knew all of his movements since leaving the bathroom were, more than likely, calculated for her benefit. She just wasn't planning on telling him that the ripple of his back muscles as he slipped on his shirt made her drop the Diamond book. Now, what she truly didn't understand was this crap of him sleeping on top of the comforter. _One moment you're attempting to seduce me, the next you act as if things are normal? _The man was really starting to aggravate her. Off put by his decision, she nudged him in the shoulder. "You know, you can actually sleep under the comforter with me. . .Oh, I know, you're afraid I'll bite."

If only she knew just how badly he not only wanted to sleep under the comforter, as well as do _other_ things under it. But, he couldn't. For some reason it was difficult now, even knowing that she held some shred of interest for him. "Mac, just go to sleep." He chuckled it off and turned to his side, his back to her.

Mac had a habit of blaming herself for certain things and this was certainly one of them. Had she pissed him off about the pregnancy suit thing? If so, that was certainly his fault! He didn't have to be wearing the damned thing and. . ."What if you get cold?"

"I don't get cold." He mumbled sleepily.

She was certainly hurt by the sudden about face. Not that she thought they'd crash in bed after meeting with Webb and go at it like bunny rabbits, but it would have been nice to talk about something other than her reason for being here and his reasons for following. "Fine, night Harm." Killing the light, she turned away from him and let her body relax. Soon Mac was asleep.

Sleep, for Harm, wasn't coming easy nor hard. It just wasn't coming at all. He didn't feel the least bit tired. Instead, his mind was churning with the near-misses in his and Mac's relationship.

_Relationship?_ Well, yes, they had a relationship. Not quite the one he preferred, but there was one.

He was wide awake when he felt Mac's body touching his. It wasn't an intimate touch, at least, it wasn't a conscious intimate touch, but it definitely did ignite a certain flame within. Harm groaned in frustration as her body was now flush with his own. He took several deep breaths hoping to spare himself and Mac the embarrassment which was sure to come, but when her backside made a little more intimate contact with him, the ungluing began

It didn't help that the combination of her perfume, body wash and shampoo were driving him crazy. Nor did it help that the light shining in the room just so happened to illuminate, almost perfectly, the nape of her neck. An area he couldn't help but want to kiss. So he did.

In her sleep – Mac really was asleep – she could feel a sensation that was neither unpleasant nor unwelcome. There was a warmth around her, the firmness of a man's body pressed up against her back, a large hand caressing her hip through the sheets. Her breath, which was once deep and even, was now short and erratic when moist lips kissed a spot behind her ear. Mac longed to turn and face the welcomed assault, but if this was a dream, she didn't want it to end. So, instead, she snuggled herself against the warmth and sighed deeply when the caresses at her neck were resumed. Soon, she wanted more.

Harm's hand stroked down her arm and down to her hip. He toyed with the fabric of her t-shirt summoning the courage to slip his hand beneath to her warm, waiting flesh. Mac's tongue meshed with his own as her fingers danced across his back.

Needing to feel more of him, Mac eased the undershirt out of the black sweatpants and pushed them upwards. Breaking their kisses, Harm raised himself up enough to rid himself of the fabric. His hands grabbed the ends of her shirt which soon pooled to the floor along with his own. Flipping onto his back, he reached over and turned on the lamp on the night table. His hungry gaze drank in the view of Mac's breasts, which he'd been fantasizing over ever since he first caught her in a bikini. "I wanted to see you." His husky confession didn't make her turn away or even blush. Then again, he didn't give her much time to react as he pressed himself against her.

. "Oh God. . .Harm."

"Damn, Mac." He couldn't fathom that this woman wanted him that much. That just kissing Mac had already aroused her.

"Harm. I want you. . .I want you now." She almost laughed manically in delight when his strong hands pulled down both the shorts and panties in two motions.

"I'm sorry that this isn't going to last long." He groaned.

"I don't care."

Mourning the loss of body contact, Mac could only sit and watch intently as he slipped his pants and boxer shorts off. When he joined her back in bed, it wasn't slow or gentle. Their kisses were hard, passionate, fueled by seven years of longing and aching for one another. With her name on his lips he collapsed over her body, shaking from the emotions still raging within him.

Mac too was shaking beneath him. Her arms wrapped around his torso, holding him almost desperately to her body. His weight on her own was welcomed and craved. She never wanted to let go.

**0023 Local  
****Somewhere in Ciudad Del Este  
****Paraguay**

The nightclub was surprisingly pleasant despite the unfamiliar Latin music and the taste of cheap liquor. Still, Webb was enjoying himself, as was Edward Hardy who sat next to him, eyeing a young, beautiful dancer. "Sometimes, I think I will miss Paraguay." He said, bowing his head as the dancer blew him a kiss. It was, of course, a ploy to get money out of him, but he didn't care – pretend was better than the real thing anyway.

"You don't have family to go home to, Edward?" Webb asked, then downed his second shot of Flor de Caña.

Hardy shrugged, "Family has long since stopped being a comfort for me." He tossed back a shot, then reached for a lit cigar he had at the edge of the table. "My wife left me for my best friend and my children don't care if I exist. . .I guess it is better this way. Keeps them all safe. . .How about you?"

"I was dating a lawyer. . .And I think she's pregnant." He deadpanned, thoughts of a night of passion between he and Catherine Gayle coming to mind. They had been dating secretly up until the Angelshark investigation which had made them both look like fools to the CIA. He'd made love to her before leaving for Paraguay and saw her once when preparing for this mission with Mac. While she hadn't flat out stated that she was pregnant, there was something about her that just threw up all sorts of warning flags.

"And you're in love with Colonel MacKenzie? Or is it lust?"

In Webb's case, it was probably a little of both, but he wouldn't admit that to anyone. Least of all himself, "How about neither?"

"Don't you find her attractive?"

"Sure I do. . .So, yeah, I guess 'lust' would be the answer."

His sentence was uttered with a slight drunken haze which Hardy latched onto almost instantly. "Step outside with me for a moment." Edward placed a few bills on the table, winked at the dancer and then proceeded outside of the building, turning into an alley. Once Webb was at his side, he grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and slammed him up against a wall. "This is why you are here, you stupid son of a bitch."

"What the hell?"

"There are a million things going on around you, don't you see it? I better not find out that you brought MacKenzie in just to fuck her, Clayton. . .Your career and mine are riding on this."

Webb brought his hands up to Hardy's, forcing the man to let him go. "You've been down here longer than I have. . .You could have left, they offered you a job back at Langley and you declined. . .Makes me curious as to whether or not you're the leak."

Feigning disgust, Hardy let Webb go, then backed off slowly. "If I were the leak, Clayton, you'd be dead by now, don't you think? . . I haven't left because they didn't let me leave." Not that he was all heartbroken about it, Edward Hardy was making out like a bandit with certain 'enterprises.' "Now, you have a job to do tomorrow, so I suggest you get back to your hotel and sober up."

"If you are the leak, God help you." Roughly, he shoved Edward against a wall, and then pushed past him, heading up the street to his hotel. There was something odd about Hardy that he couldn't put his finger on. Sometimes the man seemed a little too eager to leave, others times it was as if he had no where to go.

**0030 Local  
****Hotel Nuevo Simpatico  
****Ciudad Del Este, Paraguay**

A warm breath trickled over her chest, a stark contract to the slight chill in the suite. For a moment, Mac could have sworn that she had been dreaming, until she better oriented herself and felt the warm, hard body on top of her.

Mac pressed a hand to his cheek and then ran her fingers down. She traced his lips, his eyebrows, his nose, smiling at the little faces he made. When her hand grazed over his broad shoulder, she sensed him awaken and those beautiful blue eyes focused on her own. "Hi." She whispered with a smile as a cute sort of confusion registered in his eyes. To reassure him, she ran her fingers down the side of his face again, then leaned in and kissed him soundly.

"Hi." Harm had the grace to look sheepish once he realized their current position on the bed. "I ah. . .heh, didn't mean to conk out _on_ you."

"Oh, it was welcomed. . . I conked out a bit myself.." Her body immediately protested when she felt his warm body moving away from her. No, not away. She soon realized he had moved to the foot of the bed, angling his body so that his head was close to her lower abdomen. "Harm?"

His fingers were running slow circles around her navel, his warm breath caressed her skin. "Shhh, Mac. . .We did what _needed_ to be done. . .Now let me do what I _want_ to do."

"Hmmm… I ah. . .I think that we both want the same thing."

He raised his head up to find Mac clutching the covers, her head thrown back. "Do we?"

"Oh yes. . .as long as I am allowed to reciprocate." Raising her head, she caught sight of him, his eyes turning almost a smoky gray. "Oh God." She moaned into a pillow.

"Let go, Mac." He could see her thrashing about, holding back for reasons unbeknownst to him. Harm could feel her desire building and craved to hear and feel her release. Her staccato cries weren't exactly quiet, neither was the way she'd called his name.

For a moment, as she basted in the after glow of bliss, Harm considered what he knew about 'pregnant' women – which wasn't exactly much – and if they would sleep with their partners. He only hoped no one noticed that the sounds of sex were coming from their room where a husband, and his very pregnant wife, were staying.

Her own assault on his body were just as pleasurable as his on hers had been. It wasn't long before he was tensing beneath her longing to be joined with her again. The woman had brought up a desire that he hadn't experienced in years. A desire that could only be consummated with their total union.

When they were both sated, Mac lowered herself over his body, giggling at the thought that she'd just made love to Harmon Rabb, Junior. "What's so funny, Marine?" Harm panted beneath her, then raised his head up to kiss the top of her head.

"Oh nothing. . .Just that. . .I never thought. . ." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "This was. . .wow."

"I know what you mean." He took a deep breath, then skimmed his fingers over her damp skin. She was so beautiful, glowing really. Damn, he had it bad. "So, which one of us gets to sleep on the wet spot?" He said between chuckles.

Lifting her head, Mac glanced at him, a playful grin on her face. "Hey, you started it and it's only fitting that. . ."

Harm rolled out from under her. "I'll get the extra sheets." He said, as he made his way to the general vicinity of the bathroom.


	5. What A Wicked Game To Play pt 1

**Okie Dokie, here's more! I'm starting chapter 11 or 12 of this story today, it's getting interesting. Some hiding and seeking going on, and the angst! Ooooh the angst! Muaahahaha. Ahem, anyway...**

**Enjoy**

**Jackie**

**CHAPTER 5 – What A Wicked Game To Play**

**0220 Local  
****Hotel Nuevo Simpatico  
****Ciudad Del Este, Paraguay**

It was well past the witching hour and neither was able to find that much needed sleep. Mac's mind was on Harm. Harm's mind was on Mac. She was in his arms now, her back pressed up against his chest, their legs tangled together. After changing the sheets, they'd fallen into bed still exhausted from the night's activity. No more words, playful or otherwise were uttered. It was slightly surreal to believe that such a big chunk of what they wanted from one another had finally come to fruition – twice. And yet, something was missing. Obviously it wasn't anything detrimental or else it was likely that they'd be arguing over their current situation. But, something _was_ missing. Something that neither of them could put their finger on. Oh, they had an inkling that it had to do with the "L" word, but that was something that was to be discussed – if ever – in the safety of Washington.

The idea had been to move away and put a little bit of space between herself and Harm, but Mac just _couldn't_ do that. It felt just too damned good to have his strong, warm body against hers. And, damnit, she rather liked the way his fingers ran lazy patterns on her hip and the way he protectively held her to him. The only thing better was his lips on hers. As she rolled onto her back, Mac could feel his arms loosen and then tighten again once she had settled. In the darkness, though she couldn't see his eyes, she knew he was watching her.

Reaching out, her hand caressed his cheeks, feeling the slight stubble that had accumulated during the day. She let her hand still as Harm stroked his face against her hand, nuzzling at her palm. Then, cradling his face in her hands, Mac kissed him. It wasn't a wild, daring kiss from before, this time it was sweet, gentle and loving. Damn could the man kiss!. It seemed like ages since she'd been kissed so well and thoroughly. Some guys just never figured out the right pressure or the fact that a French kiss didn't mean you were supposed to slobber over your lover.

_Lover._

Though no words of love had been exchanged, that is what they'd become, wasn't it? Lovers? Maybe this was the culmination of all of those years of wanting and needing. If it wasn't and this was just a one time thing, Mac would live on. She knew giving into him had the probability of leaving her even more vulnerable and, this time, with a completely shattered heart, but she still gave in. Stupidly, maybe, but, damnit, she wanted him. She wanted this and she wanted them. And when he kissed her this way, it wasn't too hard to believe that, maybe – just maybe – he wanted them too.

Harm's hand gently caressed her body heading down, over her ribcage, to her flat belly, before moving lower. He couldn't get enough of her. And when Mac placed a hand over his, guiding his fingers in a slow rhythm, he nearly lost all control. He was getting aroused just touching her. Mac's hand was also 'exploring.' "Damnit, Mac, you're going to be the death of me."

She chuckled over his admission and then released him as she turned to face him. One leg came over his own and their bodies were nearly flush as they lay side by side. "Make love to me, Harm." Their union was just as awe-inspiring as the first two times. "Harm. . .Please. . .Slow this time."

The sensation and the emotions invoked were almost of a spiritual kind. "Mmm. . .Sarah." He moaned, as her hands roamed over his body, caressing and kneading his flesh. She really was going to be the death of him and he didn't mind it one bit.

Mac felt a tear escape and slide down her cheek. It felt like an eternity that she had waited to be this way, vulnerable and trusting. For all of the times they'd hurt each other in the past, that didn't seem to matter anymore. All she wanted was to feel and be felt. All she wanted was him.

Afterwards, they lay in the dark, their bodies still close together fighting the sleep that would break the moment. "What time do we have to meet Garcia tomorrow?"

"Garcia?" Damn, she'd nearly completely forgotten where they were and what they were there to do. "Oh. . .Webb said he'd contact us. . .I suppose we should get up early to shower and dress. . ." When she received no other words from Harm, she turned to face him. "Harm?"

He could hear the question in her voice which asked something he didn't know how to answer. The only thing that he did know is that now she was a complete part of him. If she was someone he wasn't willing to give up before, now, it was damned near impossible. He wanted that. He wanted her. But, there was still so much to discuss and so many changes to be made. . Still, he knew she needed an assurance and that was the only thing he could give her now. "This isn't ending like this, Mac. . .I promise. . . Let's try to get some sleep, huh?"

"Okay." Harm's words of assurances placated her, but not enough. She felt their connection which was stronger than ever. She knew that he loved her, but how? And what would happen when they went back to Washington? Things always had a tendency to change between them when they went back home. It was true that nearly all of the heartfelt conversations about their past life always occurred away from home. And in the light of day would he consider this all to be a mistake? A beautiful one, but a mistake none the less. "Night."

In the dark of night, the only real assurance that either of them had was the new connection and the knowledge that, at least, intimately, they were good together.

**0845 Local  
****El Pinguino Café.  
****Hotel Nuevo Simpatico  
****Ciudad Del Este, Paraguay**

Raul Garcia was not a patient man. In the arms business patience was just another attribute that was likely to get you killed. Nevertheless, he waited, _patiently_ for his new clients to arrive. He'd even taken a step further, already ordering their breakfast and an herbal tea for Mr. Williams' wife, whom he knew to be pregnant. The patience, however, wore thin and a veil of anger dropped over his face when he saw a couple headed towards him. The woman, with her diamond necklace and protruding belly, was obliviously the diamond expert, Jane Williams. "Mr. Garcia. . .I am Mr. Joshua Williams." The man who was extending a hand for him to shake, posed a potential threat.

"I don't like to play games." Garcia stood up, eyeing the two suspiciously. "Just be happy that we're in public where it would not be wise for me to shoot the both of you." He made to push passed Harm, who's frame towered a good head over his own.

Harm held his hands akimbo, preventing the man from leaving the café. "Mr. Garcia, if you give us a minute, I will explain and you will understand."

Oh, he understood alright. He understood that several US agencies were after him and that this wouldn't be the first contact that had ended up being something different from what they claimed to be. Still, the woman was alluring, if anything he would stay a minute longer, just to watch the way that pretty diamond dangled around her neck. "One minute." Unceremoniously, he dropped back into his seat and waited for the pair to sit as well. "As you Americans say: this better be good."

The explanation, as far as Harm was concerned, seemed plausible. He only hoped Garcia wouldn't make good on that shooting notion. "I _am_ Joshua Williams."

"So was the other man."

Coolly, Harm sat back and grinned. "No, he is an associate of mine. I paid him to meet with you and set up our trade."

"That was foolish."

"Foolish would be for me to come all the way down here for nothing, Mr. Garcia. . .See, I've been doing this for a very long time. I don't allow people like you to trick me or use me. So, I send someone else instead to see if it's worth my while."

Garcia glanced thoughtfully at the pair. While he understood Mr. Williams' concern, usually the person sent would verbalize that he was just a messenger. Anything else was suspicious and deceptive. "So this associate of yours came down to check me out?"

"Yes."

The waitress had arrived with their meals and all business conversation was put on pause for a brief moment. "Jane, I ordered an herbal tea for you and your baby." He pointed at the teacup. "I hope you don't mind me choosing your breakfast, but I understand you are not fluent in Spanish and would not be able to read the menu. . .Gracias, nada mas." He waved away the waitress and then took a sip of his coffee. "Getting back to business, you say it would be foolish for you to come down for nothing. I say it is foolish for you to come down at all. . .Your wife is extremely pregnant." He glanced from Harm towards Mac, his vision settling on the stunning diamond necklace. "You should not be wearing such an expensive necklace in Ciudad Del Este."

Mac leaned forward as much as she could, the damned belly reminding her that an aggressive tactic wasn't the best medicine for this kind of job. So, she took a breath, relying on her cover story. "Diamonds are your form of currency and my business. I will not allow my husband to be cheated, Mr. Garcia."

"Nevertheless, carrying such precious jewels out in the open is a risk." He glanced evilly at Mac, his eyes daring her to object to his next shot. "Unless the diamonds are paste."

Ah, this was pretty close to dealing with an unresponsive witness on the stand. "No. I would know if they were." Pointing to the center stone, she rattled off the information with such conviction, she was sure the CIA jewelry expert would have been proud. "2.05 carats. Surrounding it are 91 diamonds, radiant cut, totaling 21.1 carats." She took a peak at Harm who glanced at her appreciatively. Mac would never know that his pulse was racing from the fear of rubbing Garcia the wrong way. It had been stupid on the CIA's part to switch his role with Webb's. Did he prefer it, yes – Harm just didn't trust Webb when it came to Mac. But, it was still foolish.

Garcia studied the necklace for a moment. He too had some working knowledge in diamonds, enough that he could tell the real from the fake. However, if Jane Williams was as good as the fake Mr. Williams had claimed, the deal would end up a little costlier for him than anticipated. "The color is F." He tested, seeing if the woman was who she claimed to be.

"G."

"Clarity, V-S two."

Grinning, Mac shook her head like a mother minding a child. "V-S one."

Satisfied, he turned to Harm with a genuine smile. "Your wife knows her business. However, I am still baffled as to why you allowed a pregnant woman to join you in the jungle."

Harm opened his mouth in hopes to find an explanation when Mac interrupted, "Do you have children, Raul?"

"No."

"Then you know nothing about the amount of money required to raise a child these days. Diapers, formula, clothing. Later on there's schooling, books, uniforms. College. It's really quite hefty. Especially in the United States. . .I want nothing but the best for my family. And, let's face it, Josh might know about arms, but he knows very little about diamonds." She took Harm's hand, and kissed his knuckles while her eyes locked onto his own. "I believe that only the fairer sex can really appreciate the beauty of gems."

Garcia watched the interaction between the two, instantly noting their genuine affection for one another. He couldn't help it, he was suspicious by nature and any little motion would set off warning bells in his mind. Warning bells that were not going off in regards to them as a couple. In other aspects, he felt he needed to keep secure. And then there was a general curiosity. "How did the two of you meet?"

Managing to tear his gaze away from Mac's for the briefest of moments, Harm glanced towards Garcia. "We met seven years ago and worked together on and off. . .She always had a way around gems. . . A few years ago, I almost lost her to another man before I decided I just couldn't live without her."

Mac could have sworn that he was being serious about the statement. Was that what he'd felt? That he couldn't live without her? If that was the case, it matched her feelings to the letter because she couldn't live without him either. "He saved me from a mistake." _And he didn't even know it._ She added silently, her mind briefly recalling that horrible night on May of 2001. "The baby was a _bit_ unexpected."

"A bit?" Harm chuckled, then placed a hand on her belly, his hand stroking affectionately. "I am a family man and an arms dealer. I know it's a bit ironic, but I hope my son. . ."

"Or daughter." Mac grinned with a raised brow.

"Or daughter. . . will carry on the family business." Raul Garcia had to have bought it, hell even Harm and Mac were buying into the story. It didn't leave any lose ends nor did it sound terribly implausible, save for that little area of a husband dragging a pregnant wife through the jungle. What the hell was Webb thinking with a cover story like that? Just the fact that he needed to go to such lengths stated, in harm's mind, just how dangerous this could be.

Though not entirely satisfied, it was enough to, at the very least, get the ball rolling. Garcia reached into his suit pocket producing a thin black cellular phone which he handed to Harm. "I will contact you about the trade when it's ready to take place. . .Be ready at a moment's notice."

Harm tucked the cellphone into his pocket, its shell hitting against the box with the engagement ring that matched Mac's necklace. "Just so you know, I'll be taking one additional person, a driver."

"Very well, I'll take my driver as well." The man stood and extended his hand to Harm. "I am anxious to do business with you Mr. Williams. Perhaps, if you are who you say you are, we may do business again in the future."

Taking his hand, Harm gave a little additional squeeze, something that was almost like a pissing game. "Just make sure the merchandise is worth the trip."

Taking Mac's hand, Raul kissed the back of it and then smiled charmingly. "Señora." He made a hand signal while he stood at the curb and a sleek, black, Mercedes drove up, carrying him away.

Removing the cellphone from his pocket, Harm placed it on the table and motioned towards Mac before leaning in to whisper. "Just in case it's bugged, we need to keep our cover until we get upstairs and use one of those bug detecting doohickeys."

While she agreed, there was something that needed to occur in conjunction with the bug detector. "Fine." She whispered back, "And while you play with the doohickey I'll be ordering breakfast. This one is cold and I am not so sure I can trust him enough to eat anything he ordered for me."

"C'mon, Mrs. Williams, time to get you and our son upstairs." He flashed her a sly grin which Mac met with a coarse glare.

"Daughter, Mr. Williams. . .Although, with a belly _this_ big, we might just be having twins and not even know it." _Hmmm. Twins with Harm._ The thought really wasn't unappealing at all.

From his perch atop a building just across the street from the Café, Webb watched the interaction with a hint of jealousy. He'd always liked Mac, she was strong, sexy as hell – unique. A match to the, sometimes, cold hearted agent he'd become. Women came and went in his life, but a woman like Mac would stay, because she played by the same rules as he did. It really wasn't fair that Rabb had her to himself all of this time and that their mutual attraction hadn't sparked something serious. His arm came over Mac's shoulder and through his binoculars he could see something. . .new? "No fucking way!" No. No! There was NO possible way that they could have, suddenly, figure it all out.

Then again, they had looked rather _chummy_ the night before. "Can't be." Both Harm and Mac were too professional to do something so _reckless_ at a time like this. No, what he was seeing was nothing more than affection between two friends. So what if they'd kissed a little too long? So what if Mac gave him an openly dreamy look. It was all for show. Wasn't it? "Damn." Who was he kidding? Did he really believe that his wicked game – taking Mac with him while Harm was still reeling from the repercussions of nearly being convicted as a murderer – would actually work? Oh, the things a fool believes. Then again, maybe, in another time, another place, a different situation – maybe, it would have worked.

Inside the hotel room, Mac handled room service while Harm played with the _doohickey._ "Si, café y. . ."

"Don't forget to order tea, _dear_. Coffee wouldn't be good for the baby." He ignored the dirty look she shot him and decided that the bug detector had done its intended job. The cellphone appeared to be just that – a cellphone – nothing ominous about that. When Mac was done, she joined Harm on the sofa, choosing to sit just a little too far down for his taste. He wondered what that meant. If it was some sort of delayed 'morning after' regret routine. Damn it, he didn't want that. They didn't need that and the last thing Harm wanted was for Mac to think it was just about sex. It wasn't and that had been one of, in the vast amount of reasons, that he never took that next step with her. "Mac, we need to talk."

"I know." She was regretting it, wholly and truly. Talking never got them anywhere before, why would it now? See, as much as she believed that they were put on Earth for one another, Mac couldn't deny that they had a knack for saying the wrong things at the most inopportune times. Maybe that was the reason why they could never be? Neither of them could stop the want to top the other. God, maybe they really were doomed. "Last night was inevitable, but it was still. . ." She hated to say it, but would be damned if he was the one to bring an end to it. ". . .wrong."

Kahboom! Talk about a major blow to the ego. Here he was trying to formulate a way to reason what had happened – formulate something positive out of it all and lay down the ground work for a _real_ relationship when. . . Woah, wait, she though it was, "Wrong?"

It hadn't been wrong, not at all. Everything about last night and even their charade in front of Garcia had been truly right. "Well. . .You know. . ." She trailed off and put a major pause into whatever she was going to silently (almost silently) agree upon. Did she think it was _wrong_? Hell no! Did she want him as more than a friend and a partner? Hell yes! Then why was she going to let him do this again? Why was she so damned willing to allow Harm to lead this dance. Maybe this is why he'd failed to realize what she was _really_ offering in Sydney. Maybe she just wasn't making herself clear enough. "You know what? No."

"No?" The woman had always confused him but not much more than at this very minute when a possible end to their relationship limbo was nearing. "What the hell do you mean by 'no', Mac?" Harm didn't care that he came off a bit terse. In all honesty, she was frustrating the shit out of him.

"_No_, last night _wasn't _wrong. . .It _was_ inevitable, I mean, you gotta admit, there's some major attraction between us that was either going to consume us or kill us if we didn't do anything about it. . .That aside, it wasn't _wrong _and I will not allow you to sit there and make me believe it was wrong, when I don't believe it was." Ha! Chew on that Commander Harmon Rabb Jr! Victoriously she sat on her end, head turned away from him, arms folded defiantly across her chest. "And, for the record, I was _not_ topless on Manly beach with Mic. _That, _Commander, would be _wrong._"

Did the Earth suddenly spin off of its axis and straight into orbit? 'Cause that is exactly what it felt like to Harm who was sitting there, mouth agape, staring at the most beautiful, smart, sexy and _infuriating_ woman he'd ever had the pleasure of knowing. For the first time, in a long time, the lawyer had nothing to say. "Mac. . .Ah. . ."

Still, she had a few points to add, or rather, a few things she _needed_ clarifying if she ever had a shot in hell of figuring this man out. "Maybe it would help me to know why _you_ thought it was _wrong."_

"When the hell did I ever say that it was wrong, Mac?" Dear, Sweet Jesus, he already saw where this was going. It was just another conversation that could be lumped with all of their incorrect assumptions and accusations.

"But that is what you were going to say, wasn't it?"

"Assuming facts not in evidence. . .Okay, wait. . .I know. . .Damnit!" He sighed deeply, then pushed himself off of the sofa, traipsing slowly towards the window which he looked out of. "I _am_ attracted to you, Mac. . .But it's much more. . .So much more." He could feel her eyes on him, boring through his back and into his soul. "I don't want this to end here. I don't want to just turn away from you and pretend this didn't happen. Yes, this was inevitable, but it never was just about sex. . .If that were the case. . ."

Mac, with some difficulty, (Hey! She wasn't all that used to suddenly being 'pregnant!') managed to get up and finish where he'd left off. "We'd have fallen into bed a long time ago, I know. . .And I don't want to end it here either."

His breath hitched suddenly when her small hand caressed his back in soothing circles. "You just assumed _I_ thought it was wrong?" Her shy nod was the only answer to the affirmative. "We really need to learn to communicate properly."

On that she agreed wholeheartedly. "It starts with learning to listen. Or so I am told." He held his arms open for her and Mac gratefully crashed into them, feeling some of the turmoil ease and release. "We still need to talk though. . .About a lot of stuff." Love being one of them. This was fine, for now, but if this was all it was meant to be, she would take it. She'd take being his lover, to being nothing at all.

"I know, but not now and not here." He sighed deeply. This mission truly sucked. "Harm and Mac don't exist here." Harm knew she understood what he meant, that the conversation was best put on hold for a moment where they could both be emotionally vulnerable without it endangering their lives.

A knock at the door signaled the arrival of their meal, which they ate in a comfortable silence, until Mac spoke up. "I'm pretty pissed off at Webb right now."

"Ditto." That was one thing he could agree on without much argument. "The man has got to have the absolute _worst_ (yes, there was that word again!) timing ever."

"Save for us." She chuckled, shrugging when he glared at her in surprise. "Hey! You gotta admit, this isn't the ideal situation for you and I to be dancing the 'Horizontal Mambo.'"

Harm chuckled. Mac always had a certain way with word play, it was just another thing he loved and admired about her. If anything, he found it amusing, if not annoying at times. Hell, if he could love the annoying qualities too he definitely was a goner. "I'd red light you had I not been your _active_ partner, Colonel." He'd purposely dropped his voice low, clearly stating his comment with as much innuendo as he could muster.

The coffee that she was drinking (Mac had tossed the tea out and poured herself a cup from the carafe which the coffee was brought in) suddenly came out of her nose. It was gross, un-lady like, but damnit, he'd shocked the shit out of her. Harmon Rabb Junior was a prude, or at least, he'd always been around her. She now realized it was just part of the cautious armor that they'd built up for one another. "Umm, yes, Commander, you certainly _were_ active." And a whole lot more. "You know? There _is_ one good thing about Webb."

Harm, as expected, turned a shade of red. A jealous shade of red that nearly had Mac chuckling, though she restrained herself. "One good thing?" In all honesty, the man wasn't _that_ bad. He'd gotten the two of them through some sticky situations and had managed to get his brother out of a war torn country. However, the good things couldn't outweigh the bad, nor the countless risks they'd taken because of Webb's lies. "Do tell."

Mac's amused features softened and she glanced at him, almost lovingly. "We wouldn't have met if it weren't for Webb."

Ah, there was that. Though he never really gave it much thought past meeting a gorgeous woman, a ghost of a past flame, in The Rose Garden. "You don't think we'd have met anyway?"

"I don't know. . .Maybe, as adversaries, we would have met. . .Then probably not liked each other. . .Loathed each other, really. . .We would have talked a lot of shit about one another, though we were clearly attracted to each other and. . ."

Waving her off, Harm shook his head in amusement. "Now who's the romantic, MacKenzie?"

Grinding her teeth in frustration, Mac made a show of rubbing her fake belly. It looked more like she was stroking a cat. "Remind me to thank Clayton, would you?"

Harm raised a brow, amused how her sudden 'admiration' for Webb flew out of the window. "Oh, I'll be sure to hold you back, wouldn't want you to break his nose again." He winked and received a decorative throw pillow to his head.

**1020 Local  
****Chaco Boreal, Paraguay**

The dirt roads offered no reprieve for Harm's aching back as their SUV, driven by CIA agent Alvaro Mendoza, hit another pot hole. Of course, the fact that it hurt _had_ been his fault – their fault – he wasn't above sharing the blame. They _did_ decide to just sleep last night, which is exactly what they did up until one in the morning when Mac's warm body had invaded his side of the bed. She smelled so good, edible even, it was the best description considering how much he hungered to feel her beneath and above him again. Her backside had nestled just a little too close to his more sensitive areas.

For a brief moment, Harm could have sworn she was either a) awake and trying to seduce him or b) asleep and trying to seduce him. Either way, after tasting the sweat nectar that was Sarah MacKenzie, he sure as hell could NOT keep his hands to himself anymore. It was a wonder he could all of those years.

As for Mac's, conscious (she really was asleep), part in all of the previous night's – um – early morning (very early morning) activities, awaking to Harm's warm lips on her shoulder was neither unwelcome nor unwanted. Hey, if the man wanted to kiss her so badly at one in the morning, she sure as hell would help the poor guy out. And help out she did – just a little too enthusiastically, not that he had complained. Actually, it was just the opposite, he'd _begged_ (yes, Harm can beg) for more. How could any warm blooded woman resist that?

It was in the light of day that Harm had complained about a twinge in his back – which Mac promptly massaged lose before getting their show on the road. And now, these goddamned roads were undoing all of her work. "I'm very sorry Mr. Raa. . .erm, Williams, I will drive slower if you wish."

"It's fine Alvaro, nothing serious. . .I'm a jet pilot who's punched out a time too many." Thankfully the Navy couldn't count the one in Russia else his wings would have been clipped years ago. Carefully, he eyed Mac who had her head buried in relatively large book, "_The History Of Diamonds_. Anything interesting?"

Mac shrugged, "Depends. . .For instance_, In ancient Rome, a diamond was a get-out-of-jail free card. If a criminal could smash a diamond with a hammer and anvil, he won his freedom. Diamonds made the iron rebound and the anvil split asunder._ Or so says Pliny the Elder." She had always been fascinated by some of the facts of history. Though history itself wasn't her strong suit, certain, quirky stories were always saved to memory.

Harm peered into the book. "Guess that means it never worked?

"Pliny doesn't say."

"If we'd been in ancient Rome, I'd still have been in Leavenworth."

He meant it as a joke which was exactly how Mac perceived it. "Aww, Harm, don't talk like that. . Leavenworth didn't exist in Roman times." She nudged him playfully, then went back to her studies.

"Hardy. Har. Har, Marine." The cellphone in his hand rang and Harm promptly answered. "Si? Okay." Hanging up, he then instructed Alvaro to turn down the first dirt road on the right.

For the last hour they'd been traveling from one dirt road to the next. Their map – a man on a cell phone which would tell them when and where to maneuver. It was almost like being blind which was, undoubtedly, a safety measure of Raul Garcia's. The man was deceptively cleaver, Harm had to give him that. "I see a truck." Alvaro pointed forward to an old (some would call it antique), dark blue Ford pickup truck and the three men sitting inside. One of the men, the one seated on the passenger's side, waved them to follow. "What would you like me to do Mr. Ra-Williams?"

Harm ignored the muck up, surely the man was doing it on purpose, probably as a suggestion from Webb. "Follow them. . .It would look suspicious if we turned back now." Nervous wasn't a color that looked good on him and it was something he rarely had a chance to experience. Rather, something that he didn't care to experience. The whole cloak and dagger aspect of this mission was ungluing him slowly. It was a cinch that Mac, though seemingly occupied with Pliny's diamond stories, was just as unglued as he. "Anything else of interest, Marine?"

Mac groaned as the car went through another major pothole. "Not in regards to diamonds. However, if I really were pregnant, I think the baby would have just popped out after that." She rubbed a hand against her lower back and then turned to Harm with a concerned look. "How's your back handling it?"

"It isn't." He answered truthfully, then shrugged when Mac's look of concern deepened. "Can't do a thing about it, can we?" Later he'd just pop a fist full of Ibuprofen. Looking forward, when Alvaro took a sharp right, Harm suddenly knew that things had just gotten a little more complicated. "Oh shit."

"What?" Taking her head of the book Mac peaked up only to find five cars with a good dozen or so men with machine guns standing around one Raul Garcia. "Oh shit. . .So much for bringing a driver. Looks like he has twelve."

Alvaro pulled the SUV to a stop and reached across to the passenger's seat where his AK-47 lay. "What do you want to do?"

Harm checked the pistol in his shoulder holster and also the one at the small of his back. "Proceed as planned." Turning to Mac, he gave her a sharp look. He didn't like this and especially didn't like her involvement. "Mac, are you sure about this?"

She nodded. "I can do this, Harm. . .I promise." He believed her.

The three made it out of the vehicle, Harm staying close to Mac until two of Garcia's goons pulled him away. They searched him, finding both guns which were placed on the hood of their SUV. "Those will do you no good."

From the corner of her eye, Mac noticed a man who seemed strikingly familiar to someone she once knew. While Harm was being patted down, she was able to take a better look at the dark haired man. It was Gunnery Sergeant Victor Galindez. His clean shaven, cropped hair appearance was gone. Now he sported a little more than a five o'clock shadow and longer, jaw length hair which was partially hidden by a straw hat. There was a glimmer in his eyes which she couldn't quite read. Obviously, something had either surprise or amused him. Probably the latter as it was doubtful that Webb had told him that she and Harm were involved. "Something wrong, Jane?"

Raul's voice startled her slightly, a fact she hid with a slight sneer and a bitchy attitude. "Yeah, my ass hurts. You'd think these people would pave these goddamned roads."

Harm still hadn't caught on, he was too busy calculating a safe move that would get them the hell out of there to notice that there was someone familiar in the crowd. Still, he played along, wrapping an arm tightly around Mac. "She's a bit cranky this morning. . .Guess the trip might not have been such a hot idea after all, huh sweetie?"

Mac brushed him off. "Don't _sweetie_ me, Joshua! It's _your_ fault I am pregnant."

"Where's what you promised me?" Garcia asked Harm, trying to prevent a skirmish that he believed was in the making. Thankfully, he'd never had a wife or children to contend with. It was bad enough that in his youth he'd helped raise his brothers and sisters until he was able to do something better with his life.

"Alvaro." Calling the man's name did nothing and it was then that a sense of dread dropped on both Harm and Mac. Their bodyguard seemed a little too preoccupied with a pair of, what Harm would describe as, Arab terrorists. "Alvaro! For today!" He shook his head in annoyance and turned to Garcia. "Terrible to find good help these days."

That was something that Raul Garcia could agree with. "Yes. Very few willing to work. Very many willing to back stab you."

Harm felt Mac's fingers brush against his own. It wasn't an affectionate touch, it was more of a warning which made sirens go off in his head. While Alvaro allowed the Arab's to examine the computer cards, Harm took another scan of the group, his gaze landing firstly on the man that had gotten Mac's attention. _Gunny?_ This wasn't his first rodeo, but it was rather difficult not to yell the man's name in surprise. The last time they had seen him was a year prior when he'd lost his love in the Afghani desert.

So this is what had become of him, a lackey for Clayton Webb? Surely that isn't what Gunny was, but it was difficult to see anyone that worked for Webb in any other light. That included him and Mac who had, unknowingly, been his lackeys in several ventures. He'd never thought to warn the younger man about the 'joys' of teaming with Webb. Honestly, Harm thought Gunny to be too good for that.

The two Arab men rambled several things in Farsi which Mac tried not to respond to. It was difficult to just listen in and pretend she couldn't understand a damned thing. Something in her demeanor told Harm that what they had said was good. At least, good for their situation. One of the men nodded towards Garcia who then retrieved a small, black bag from one of his other guards. "And now it's time for my end of the bargain." From inside he pulled out a small velvet bag and a large cloth which was placed over the SUV's hood. "Jane, have a look." He poured the diamonds out of the velvet bag onto the cloth and then took a step back, allowing for Mac to step close to the diamonds. "There should not be a problem. I inspected them myself."

Mac gave him a doubtful look then reached into her bag to pull out a small pouch that contained one stone holder, a loupe and a small digital scale. She placed the scale next to the cloth with diamonds then took the loupe in her left hand and the holder in the other. "Let's see." Picking up one diamond with the holder, she peered through the loupe, holding her breath as she checked the diamond for what she hoped was the proper amount of time for a diamond expert. "Poor symmetry. . .This stone was cut by Stevie Wonder." She cast Garcia a dubious look and placed the diamond on the scale. "Eight carats." She placed that stone away from the pile and then, opting to look at another, Mac used the tools once again, "Mmm, flawless. Perfect cut. B color. It's a keeper." That stone was cast to a different part of the cloth before she picked through a few others. "Is that all you got?"

Garcia had been in the business for quite some time. While he wasn't a diamond expert, he knew a thing or two about them. To him, it was clear that the woman knew what she was doing. "A woman that actually knows her business."

Grinning, Harm wrapped an arm affectionately around her. "Yeah, well, it was part of what made me fall for her." Mac wished that his words wouldn't make her shiver because she knew it was an act, a play. But, damnit, all of those husbandly affections were caving her in just a little more.

Grabbing another velvet bag, Garcia poured the rest of the stones onto the cloth. "These might be a bit more interesting." He eyed her carefully as she went through three more diamonds, explaining their characteristics precisely. "I must say, Jane. It is very impressive that you know your diamonds so well. I envy you."

"Well, it's really simple, Raul. You can't rely on much else except for your specialty in life. For instance, men, they come and go. They lose their hair and their wealth. Diamonds stay hard forever. Though I am madly in love with my husband, should things go wrong, I have a back up plan." She glanced lovingly at Harm and took his hand. "Not that I expect anything to go wrong." Her eyes locked onto his in a silent conversation that nearly made everyone else around them disappear. Slowly, she raised his hand up, kissing Harm's palm softly. "You can get half a million in Tel Aviv, my love." While she interacted with him, she kept her ear on a different conversation going on behind her. It was in Farsi and she didn't have to strain too much to realize that the discussion was turning away from the exchange and into something more sinister like the Stinger missiles.

When Mac released his hand, Harm stepped forward, producing a larger velvet pouch from his jacket's pocket. "That should conclude business." He began pouring the diamonds into the pouch when a distinct clicking sound halted his work. The sound was then proceeded by louder clicking sounds. When he glanced upwards he found all of the men, including Alvaro, with their guns pointed at him.

"Looks like your bodyguard has no interest in keeping you alive." In Garcia's hand was a gleaming, silver 45 mm pistol which was pointed directly towards Mac's head. "So tell me, why should I let you live?"

Harm felt the bile rising up his throat as he saw past Mac's defiance to the fear behind her eyes. What had Webb gotten them into now?


	6. What A Wicked Game To Play pt 2

Sorry for the delay gang, having an issue with an employer I worked for and  
his unwillingness to pay my final check. We'll see how it goes.

**Jackie**

**Chapter 6 – What A Wicked Game To Play 2**

1035 Local  
Chaco Boreal, Paraguay

The seconds seemed to tick away like hours, each slow and unrelenting. Mac deduced that the pistol had been held to her head for no more than thirty seconds. Cautiously, she'd glanced over at Harm, their eyes locking in a silent conversation. His eyes betrayed the rough, impassive emotion on his face. He was scared. The whole thing served as a reminder that this was not a Military mission. It was sanctioned by the CIA, which meant that back up was nonexistent. Worse of all, if they were shot at that present moment, no one would ever know the truth. Their lifeless corpses would, more than likely, rot in the Chaco Boreal.

At the very least, she'd get her wish – to die with something big at stake like Butch and Sundance. Mac regretted, however, that _her_ Butch would be involved.

"I can get you just about anything you want. . .Stingers, military planes, ships." Harm rattled off, hoping that any of those things made a difference at all.

"Anything I want?"

"Yes."

Chuckling, Garcia lowered his gun and ordered for the men to do the same. "How long will it take for you to get me five cases of RPGs?"

"Depends. . .Little under a week, usually." Harm was surprised to receive his guns back and even more shocked to find that the group of men was beginning to disperse including Gunny, who was now walking towards the SUV which had the cases with the computer chips.

Garcia shrugged, "A week?. . . I'll be in touch, then." He patted Harm on the back and then turned to Mac, taking her hand. "It's been a pleasure. Congratulations on your baby." He kissed the back of her hand and then walked towards the SUV which Gunny was driving. "Take me to the villa, Galindez. You'll then take these computer boards to Yourlsef and wait for the cocaine."

Gunny glanced out at Harm and Mac wishing that he could speak with them and know what they did. Working for Webb for the last three months hadn't been as glamorous or interesting as he'd hoped. Not that he was looking for glamour, but he was getting too old to play Marine and hoped to find something just as important, if not more, in the CIA. The job that Webb had offered had been a wet dream – and that was all it was – a dream. He had to prove himself to the agency and show off his skills. That's what this whole mission had been, a big test. The rules were simple enough – come out alive and you're in. Had he known the rules ahead of time, Gunny would have thought twice about leaving the Corps.

"So, you're the leak?" Mac accused Alvaro, who was still holding up his AK in their general direction. "Or are you some sort of double agent?"

Alvaro motioned towards their SUV. "Get in, I will take you back to Ciudad Del Este." He waited for the pair to slip into the back seat before he turned on the engine and made a three point turn in order to head back down from where they came.

"Why did you betray the Agency?" Harm asked, his hand gently resting next to Mac's on the seat.

"It has nothing to do with finances, if that's what you think." Alvaro stated with slight bitterness. "They destroyed me and then placed me in this hell." As teenager living in Peru, he'd witnessed the death of his parents by the hands of a Guerilla warlord. He'd spent nearly a week in the jungle looking for a way to survive when he'd bumped into a National Geographic photographer and his crew. Instantly, the group had taken him under their wing – an informal adoption of sorts. The Americans had taught him English and he'd spent the next few years of his life working tirelessly with the crew. At twenty two, a CIA agent had needed a guide to get through the Chaco Boreal and Alvaro had been enlisted as his tour guide. His knowledge had impressed the agent and soon Alvaro Mendoza found himself doing a job that wasn't very difficult but came with little rewards. It was easy for men like Raul Garcia to get to him – money had the power to buy off anyone. However, it wasn't Garcia doing the buying, but one Edward Hardy who headed up the secret CIA office in Paraguay. Edward Hardy, a man who was trying to rid himself of Paraguay, just as Clayton Webb was. And the perfect way of doing that was making sure that Webb's plans went to hell, no matter what the consequences were or who he needed to employ to get the job done. "It has to do with one agent and the damage he's been doing to. . ."

Shots rang out before Alvaro could finish what he'd been saying. Automatically, Harm's body came over Mac's pushing her down into the seat, covering her from the shower of broken glass. The car skidded to a stop nearly careening off of the road. A tree stopped its forward motion. Mac didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until she heard Harm let out a deep sigh. She sat up as his body came off of hers. "Are you alright?" They asked at the same time and both acknowledge the affirmative only to notice with certainty that a black billow of smoke was coming out of the mangled hood. "We have to get out of here." She tried her door, but it wouldn't budge. "Harm?"

Turning in his seat, he used his strong legs to kick his door open and quickly jumped out. He offered a hand to Mac and then stopped to check on Alvaro. "He's dead. . .Keep your six down, Mac. . .If it was one of Garcia's goons, I'm sure they are still out here."

It was ideal to try and get out of the labyrinth that Garcia had led them into and, hopefully, back to one of the main roads. Harm held one of his pistols in his hand, his other was wrapped around Mac's as they ran down the dirt road, away from a vehicle that both certainly knew would explode. From behind, the sounds of a vehicle caught their attention. "Shit, hide, Mac!" They pulled each other towards an area thick with vegetation and ducked down, but the vehicle didn't pass them by. Instead, it came to a stop and someone, a man, stepped out.

"Harm? Mac?" The voice belonged to non-other than Clayton Webb. "Damnit! Where the hell are you?"

Mac shot Harm a look that could kill as she came out of their perch and headed back up to the road. "Webb! What the hell is going on?" She looked him up and down, biting her lower lip to prevent from laughing at the BDUs he was wearing which, clearly, didn't suit him.

"Get in." He jumped back behind the driver's seat and waited for both Harm and Mac to be seated before speeding off down the road. In the background a loud explosion could be heard. "Well, so much for Alvaro." He said, without much care. "I can't believe he was the leak."

Harm slid to the edge of the back seat, his upper body draping over the center console. "Wait, you knew?"

"You shot him." Mac stated, then slammed her fist into the back of the passenger's seat. "Damnit, Webb, you could have killed us! And don't give me no bullshit about it being worth the risk, either."

Webb shrugged. "It wasn't a risk. Alvaro was driving slowly and I was close enough to get you out if things got sticky."

Angrily, Harm wound up, his fist coming in contact with the side of Webb's face. It caused his vision to blur and it was a miracle of God that the SUV didn't slide into a ditch. The car rumbled to a stop and both men, followed by Mac, stepped out. "You son of a bitch!" Harm yelled at the agent, then swung again, this time completely missing as Webb moved out of the way.

"Let me explain!" Webb pleaded, then took a swing himself which landed on Harm's midsection only to enrage the Sailor just a bit more. "Now wait!" Harm lunged, slamming him into the SUV with a force that winded the both of them. He felt Harm's hands wrap around the collar of the BDUs. "Sarah! Get him off of me!"

Amused, Mac stood to the side, leaning against the SUV without a care in the world. In her mind, Webb deserved an ass kicking for all of the times he'd put them in these odd ball predicaments. Sure, they were molded to deal with problems, but the ridiculousness of it all was starting to irritate her. "No. Not until you get us the hell out of here, Webb."

"You can't leave!" Webb yelled. "You won't leave Gunny behind."

Harm's grip loosened considerably and he took two steps backwards. "Why is Gunny here?"

"I tapped him a few months ago while he was here for a training exercise with his squad. . .He wanted something different, I offered it to him."

"Does he even know what's going on?"

Webb shook his head. "Not all of it. . .He knows about the Stingers, but I couldn't get in touch with him to let him know that you and Harm would be on the case as well. . .I didn't think Garcia would use him so readily. I never thought you three would bump into each other."

Releasing him, Harm walked around in circles, trying to wrap his mind around the mission and the hell they'd been put in. Maybe he should have been more assertive when Mac came to him a few nights ago. He should have taken her then, kissed her senseless and carried her to his bed. That would have ensure that she'd miss her flight and Webb would have to do it alone or find someone else. Yes, that's what he should have done. "Damnit, Webb. What else aren't you telling us?"

"That's all, I swear."

Mac sighed and glanced sadly over at Harm. Damnit, she should have listened to him. "How did you know Alvaro was the leak?"

"I was watching the trade. . .I saw him drop his weapon." He shook his head vehemently. "You can't trust anyone these days."

"You didn't have to kill him, Webb!" She yelled at him, her fists shaking in anger. "It was all done anyway."

"It's not _all done_, Sarah!" He closed in on her, keeping no less than a foot away. "This is big, bigger than what I've been led to believe. We need to take Garcia and Caled out and we have to do it soon. . .My sources have told me that, besides the Stingers, Caled is trying to get his hands on one of our military vessels. The likelihood of that happening might be slim, but could you wrap your head around the destruction that he can inflict if that happened?"

Another silent communication ensued between Harm and Mac who were glad their sync hadn't completely vanished after the Singer fiasco. "Fine, Webb. We'll stay, but you'd better be forthcoming with information."

"Deal." The agent agreed and then pushed himself off of the SUV. "Now, let's get the hell out of here."

Mac glanced over at Harm, "You remember when we first met him? A mama's boy that didn't even know how to cock a gun? This really makes me happy I am not an agent."

Webb hung his head out of the driver's window, scowling in their general direction. "Hey! I am still here you know. And for the record, I am _not_ a mama's boy. Father died when I was young and mother raised me!"

She was going to add that Harm had the exact same occurrence, but thought best to leave it at that. Webb would never be half the man Harm was. There was no purpose in arguing. "Fine, whatever. . .Let's get out of here."

They rode out of the Chaco Boreal in silence, but Harm could feel a tension radiating off of Mac that he hadn't experienced before, even in times when she should have been tense. He placed a hand over hers, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. "Mac?"

"Gunny shouldn't be here." She whispered, then turned her hand over so that their fingers could thread together. "He shouldn't be in the dark about all of this."

"You care for him a lot, don't you?" Harm couldn't help the jealous twinge to his voice, nor could he push aside the thoughts of Gunny being over protective with Mac when they were on the Guadalcanal.

Smirking, Mac raised a brow up in question. "You're jealous."

"I'm _not_ jealous of Gunny." Yes, he was. And he was jealous of any man within a ten mile radius that even remotely looked at her funny.

"You sound jealous, Rabb." They'd forgotten about the meddlesome spook who had a shit eating grin and was glancing at them from the rearview mirror.

If Harm's scowl meant anything, both Webb and Mac were on the money. "I am not jealous."

"Even though we spent months on the LHA together?" She was baiting him and wasn't the least bit sorry that she was either. Mac rather liked seeing Harm's emotions so clearly represented. It gave her just a little more hope that a future between them was possible.

Harm shook his head defiantly, the last thing he was going to do was give into defeat, no matter how much they prodded. "You're too good of an officer to let anything happen between you and an enlisted. Not to mention, he sees you as a sister and you see him as a brother." He found Webb's eyes on them again. "Stay out of it, Clayton." Turning to Mac, he addressed her with a burning gaze that should have been reserved just for the bedroom. "Okay, maybe I'm a little jealous."

She gave his hand a squeeze and glanced back at him sympathetically. "That's nice, but you have no reason to be." And that was that.

Webb regretted being in the same car with the pair sitting behind him. It became even more evident that the bond they shared wasn't one easily broken. Too bad. However, that didn't mean he wasn't going to look for an opening. If Rabb so much as screwed up, Mac would be his for the taking. That is, if she would ever stop considering him to be a jerk. The ringing of his cell phone drowned out the chit chat in the back seat and Webb went back to Secret Agent Man mode. "Yes?. . .Now?" He spoke into the receiver then took a peak at the pair behind him. "Fine, we'll be there."

"What's up?" Mac asked, turning to Harm with a worrisome look. She wasn't too sure she could handle another trade or the consequences of said trade. One was fine with her considering that her diamond expertise were pretty non-existence. It only took a slight screw up for someone to notice that she wasn't who she said she was.

"That was Edward Hardy, head of the CIA in Paraguay. . .Seems we're not done."

Harm slid up on his seat. "What does that mean?"

"It means I am hoping he'll give me the OKAY to eliminate Raul Garcia." He smirked, then made a U-Turn only to turn down another dirt road. "Hang on, it'll be bumpy for a bit."

He was right on the 'bumpy' statement. Actually, it was more of an understatement. The road was far worse than the one they had traveled for the trade. Either that, or Webb's driving totally sucked. It was the latter, Harm deduced as they careened through a half-fallen branch. When they came to a stop just to the side of a large, surveillance vehicle, Mac was the firs to jump out. "Harm's driving on the way back." She said, warranting no argument from her partner.

The spook, however, wasn't so charitable. "I thought Marines were tough as nails."

Mac chose to bite her tongue this time with a mental promise to slug Webb the next time he made a crack about Marines. Instead, she was the first to step into the large van and glanced around inside. She'd been in one before, so the shock of seeing so much surveillance was pretty much shrugged off. "You're going to use Rivet Joints?"

"UAV" Harm said, staring at the screens. "You're going to blow up the compound?"

Edward Hardy, who had been completely ignored by the pair, glared at Webb. "You can't do this. . .I won't be responsible for any civilians you may wound or kill in order to fund your 'get out of hell' project. I want out of here just as bad as you do, Webb."

Webb sighed, "I should have known you brought us here just to baby sit me." He tapped one of the men handling the computers on the shoulder. "Take another sweep of the area." The UAV did and the images were now clearer than before. Two vehicles were parked outside and in the home there were, "Four persons. . ." He noticed the look that Harm and Mac shared and thoughts of one of their friends came to mind. "Gunny's not in there if that's what you two think. . .he left for Caled's compound as soon as they arrived. . .Edward, this is the only chance we got. . .We know for certain that Garcia had a meeting with his four top honchos. . .This is it."

For Hardy it would be difficult to leave Paraguay. No, it wasn't his love for the country, nor the pretty secretary that shared his bed nearly every night. It was the fact that past sins and mistakes weren't easily erased - this was his penitence. Any screw ups from him or the agents under him would, more than likely, end with a bullet to his skull. "I can't approve of this."

"You can't just let him go." Mac said, her eyes locked on the screens as the UAV appeared to make another pass at the home.

Hardy's head whipped towards them, pinning both Harm and Mac with a look that would kill. "Would you two like to go home only to be locked away at Leavenworth?"

Harm's breath hitched at the mention of the penitentiary. God, he didn't even want to think of Leavenworth anymore, the nightmares were enough. "Rules of Engagement will be in your favor. . .Unless you'd prefer that my and the Colonel's after action reports state that you were too coward to get the job done. . .Maybe you don't belong in the CIA Mr. Hardy."

Hardy clenched and unclenched his jaw, his brow furled in anger. Damnit, how he wished he had a bottle of Caña with him. "Fine. . do it . .But this is YOUR mission, Webb. If something goes wrong, you'll be the next star on the wall, NOT ME."

"Fine by me." Webb said without hesitation, then pointed at the screen. "On my mark. . .3. 2. 1. Fire."

The infrared showed the missile heading into the compound followed by a large, red blob on the screen which signified that the target had been hit. "Direct hit." The UAV operator said. "Doesn't appear to be any survivors."

Another technician turned to the four behind him with a great deal of concern in his eyes. "Sir, there's a Baby Huey on the line."

(Through the speakers inside of the van, the group could hear Gunny's voice loud and clear. _"I'm in Caled's compound, waiting for the cocaine right now."_)

"Do you see the stingers?" Hardy asked, his voice hitching slightly. The Stingers were a story altogether different from Garcia. Little did Webb, Harm or Mac know that Hardy benefited financially by Caled's acquisition of the Stingers.

(_"Negative, but there is a semi here. IF they are anywhere, it's got to be in that truck.")_

"Roger that, proceed as planned."

(_"Congratulations Commander, Colonel.")_

"For what?" Harm asked, a questioning glance falling on Mac who had a similar expression.

(_"The bun in the oven. . .I must say, it was a long time com. . ."_) The area he was standing in came alive with men holding AK-47s. His friends, the ones that he'd been speaking with during the trade with Garcia, were now his enemies. "Damn." Towards him walked a lanky man with dark hair, dressed in black slacks and a red, short sleeved, buttoned shirt. The man sported a goat-tee, sprinkled with just the slightest of white. His dark hair was combed back. Instinctively, Gunny pressed the 'speaker' button on the cell phone in hopes that the others could hear. Thankfully, just like every other agent in the field, his cell phone was equipped with a GPS tracking device. "You must be Yourlsef. . ." He extended his hand towards the man, who just shoved it away from him with great force.

Caled savagely yanked the phone out of Gunny's hand. "Whoever this is, I have your man." Caled did not wait for a response, he merely closed the cell phone, tossed it to the ground and proceeded to stomp on it until its guts were spread over the rocks and the dirt.

The sound of static permeated the walls of their small confines. All of the occupants glanced at each other with looks of unanimous horror. One of them was out there. One of them was captured and likely to be killed. "Could you get a trace on the cellular phone?" Hardy asked and received a 'yes' as an answer. "You do realize I can not let you bomb Caled's compound now."

"That's awfully altruistic of you, Edward." Clay stated sarcastically.

With a chuckle, he pushed pass Webb and stepped off of the vehicle. "Nothing altruistic about it, Clayton. You never received confirmation that the stingers actually are there. I'll deny any action against Caled and if you so much as try something without my say, the Chaco Boreal will seem like Switzerland compared to where you will be."

Harm and Mac stepped off after the men, the Marine was the first to voice her opinions about something that was altogether wrong when it came to Military affairs. "So, what about Gunny? You're just going to leave him there?"

Hardy shrugged. "He knew the risks, Colonel. As did you and the Commander. . .This is the CIA. 'Leave no man behind' doesn't work here and never will."

"I'm not leaving him out there no matter what the hell either of you have to say." Harm deadpanned, daring either man to say otherwise. "As far as you two are concerned the Colonel and I are done here. Garcia is dead. Mr. And Mrs. Williams don't exist anymore." Rifling around his suit pocket, he produced the bag of diamonds which he tossed at Webb. "Shove those up your ass. . .Let's go, Mac."

As Mac turned to hurry after Harm, she felt a hand wrap around her bicep. "Sarah, this is ridiculous. You two can't just waltz on in there and. . .OOOF."

The punch she was dying to inflict on the spook had finally been received. Mac wasn't too sure, but it was probable his nose was broken. . .again. "It's not Sarah. It's _Colonel MacKenzie._ . .And don't you ever touch me again." She dropped her purse on his stomach, then turned and hurried to join Harm who had climbed into the SUV they'd rode in on. "Let's go." She took a deep breath, hoping to steal herself for the unknown horrors that likely lay ahead.

"You're sure about this, Mac?" Despite his want for her to join him, Harm wasn't delusional. Most men wouldn't willingly take the woman that they loved into a war zone. And this wasn't just a war zone, it was more like a suicide mission.

She placed a hand on his and nodded. "Butch and Sundance, remember?" Maybe she shouldn't have been too eager to die in a blaze of glory.

**1320 Local  
****Yourlsef Caled's Compound  
****Somewhere in the Chaco Boreal  
****Paraguay**

Former Gunnery Sergeant now CIA-Spook, Victor Galindez, was not normally a worrier. He'd seen enough in his lifetime to know how to handle himself, something that he did relatively well. Yet, the man sitting across from him, in a seemingly friendly posture, holding a bottle of Flor de Caña, was an enigma. Such had been the men he'd encountered in Afghanistan. He managed to crack a few and retrieve necessary information, but this time he knew he was on the losing end. "I need to head back to Raul Garcia. Preferably with his drugs."

Caled poured the Caña into a small glass and slid it towards Gunny. "Drink. Relax. We have much to discuss."

Eagerly – maybe a little too eagerly – Gunny took the drink and tossed it down, savoring the liquid's) relaxation as it rushed down his throat. His ability to keep cool wasn't slipping per se, but it might do him good to seem more concerned than he was. Oh, who the hell was he kidding? This wasn't the Marines, there was no one sitting in the woods waiting for him. With the CIA's game rules, he was as good as dead. "Hey, I already told you earlier. I work for Raul Garcia."

Bitter laughter emanated from his nemeses. Caled was growing tired of the charade and if the man wouldn't tell him what he needed to know, then he would use other measures. Surefire measures which relied on torture more than conversation . "Who were you speaking with over the cellular phone, Victor?"

"Raul Garcia." Gunny stated again, much more forcefully than he intended to. It wasn't the truth, but it _was _his story that he was sticking to. "He asked me to check in if things were going slowly and I did."

From the corner of his eye, Gunny noticed a man holding an AK-47 motioning towards Caled. "Excuse me one moment, Victor. Please, enjoy the Caña." The terrorist stood to the side, speaking with his soldier, receiving information that would, surely, change the game completely. He took a glance towards Gunny and shook his head in disgust. Good help was becoming so difficult to find. "There is both good news and bad news, Victor. Which do you prefer to hear first?"

Gunny shrugged. At this point, any news was good if it meant it was keeping him alive. "You chose."

"Then I will start with the bad, since it pertains to you. . .Raul Garcia is dead. It seems a missile wandered into his Villa and blew it to pieces. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Feigning ignorance, Gunny dropped his head into his hands and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh God. . .Of course I don't know anything about it! Hell, I could have been dead as well!"

Caled stepped closer to Gunny and waved his guard over. "Well, now it's time for the good news. . .I'm going to set you free." He patted Gunny on the back and helped him up.

"Set me free?" Somehow, Gunny figured that the type of freedom they were offering wasn't the type he was seeking. And still, he had to play the fool, "Not to be a pest, but what about my money?"

"You won't need it where you're going."

The guard forced Gunny up to his feet, keeping the AK-47 pointed at him as they walked across the field and towards a shack that sat, partially, underground. A smell of death wafted from the shack and Gunny nearly gagged at the all too familiar smell – blood, dried blood and burnt flesh. "What's this?" When the door was thrown open, his fears were confirmed. This was a torture room, complete with car batteries and a wooden table adorned with foot and arm straps. "Hey. . .Look, I. . ."

Whatever he was trying to say was cut short as an explosion had all men, Gunny included, falling to the ground. Through the smoke he could see an SUV in the distance and the clear muzzle flash that came from a semi-automatic weapon. He was being rescued. Standing, he rammed a knee into Caled's guard and then removed the automatic weapon. His attempt to shoot Caled was stolen when he began to take fire himself. "Damnit!" Hurrying through the smoke and the shower of bullets, Gunny ran towards the SUV, ducking between trees in hopes of not getting his six blown off.

"C'mon Gunny!" He heard Mac shout and doubled his efforts to try and reach them.

The SUV Webb was driving was somewhat of an armory. The back had boasted a select assortment of weapons raging from grenades to automatic rifles. There was even a knife or two. Rambo would have been pleased. "Mac, get your ass in the SUV!" Harm yelled, as he pulled the pin from a grenade and threw it in the general direction from where gun fire was coming. "Gunny, hurry!" He slid into the vehicle himself and shoved it in drive. They were seconds away from leaving their scot-free, or as close to it as possible.

Gunny threw himself into the vehicle, closed the door and then used the open window to return fire. A rat-at-a-tat echoed in the area and just when they thought they'd gotten out alive a big flash of red, orange and white told them otherwise. A grenade had dropped near enough to flip the SUV over onto its side. The occupants strewn haphazardly around its insides.

For some reason, the last thing Mac remembered before blacking out was her comment to Harm about his being ready when she had one foot out the door. Morbidly, she wondered if he'd care for her even in death.


	7. Brutal and Effective

Oookay doods!

Here's chapter 7. It's not overly graphic during certain things that happen  
to Harm, but yes, some torture is involved. And that's your warning. ;) Thank you for all of the feedback I'll be respond it to it once I get a moment of peace!

Enjoy!  
Jackie

**Chapter 7 – Brutal and Effective**

**1630 Local  
****Yourlsef Caled's Compound  
****Somewhere in the Chaco Boreal  
****Paraguay**

Harm's head was pounding mercilessly and to a gravity that he knew, would increase once his eyes were open. It wasn't quiet out, his ears deduced as he heard a distant rumble of lightning and sounds of men speaking, what he figured to be, Farsi. It was the language which brought him back into reality and the knowledge that he, Mac and Gunny were now captives of Yourlsef Caled.

He'd first realized that fact when he was being literally pulled out of the SUV and dragged over rough terrain to this hut of sorts. Harm had fought with his consciousness, trying so hard to stay awake to make sure Mac and Gunny were alright. However, he'd succumbed, but not before detailing as many aspects as he could. Opening his eyes he realized it was still light out, but that it was promptly fading through the brush and would soon fall behind the horizon. He was on the floor with Gunny to his right while Mac had seemingly been placed in a comfortable position on a small cot. It was obvious her 'pregnancy' had offered her some sort of kindness.

Raising himself up slowly, he came to his knees in front of her, his fingers checking for a pulse which he found strong and steady. "She's fine, sir. . .Just a few bumps, bruises and scratches. . .I hope the baby is alright."

Tearing his gaze away from the cut at her brow, Harm turned to Gunny and whispered. "She's not really pregnant, it's all part of our cover."

Maybe it was the whack to his head or the months he'd spent in the Chaco with Webb, "Right, I should have thought of that. . .I'm just, not thinking straight anymore."

"I don't think any of us are." Studying a gash on Gunny's left eyebrow, Harm ripped off a piece of his undershirt and applied pressure. "Hold that there, Victor, and drop the sir and ma'am. . .For all intents and purposes we are Josh and Jane Williams." So much for thinking that Josh and Jane were dead for the duration of the trip.

Gunny held the makeshift bandage to his head and sighed deeply. "This is my fault. . .If I hadn't. . ."

"If there's anyone to blame it's me. . .Things probably wouldn't have gotten so screwed up if I didn't butt my way into this mission. . .I got Webb thrown off of it."

"That's probably for the best. God knows what type of danger the Colonel would have been in had you not done this."

What type of danger indeed. Harm just couldn't fathom that anything would be worse than this. "We have to try and get out of here. . .No one is going to come for us."

"I might have a way." Gunny said with a slight smirk. One of the things he'd learnt and almost perfected between the Corps and the CIA was the art of evasion. He was trained to find the optimal way out of any sticky situation with great success. "Earlier I was walking around the Hacienda and went around back to take a leak. . .There's this slope that goes down for a good fifty feet or so at about a forty five degree angle. It's a risk, but if you can get to the bottom without breaking any appendages, there's a shot that you can get to the main road and back to Ciudad Del Este."

Harm turned to Mac again. He wasn't sure what her condition was at the moment, if anything was broken. And the last thing they were able to do is drag her through the woods when both he and Gunny were mentally and physically exhausted. So, he'd wait. He'd wait with her until Gunny found help. "Do you think you can make it without getting shot?"

"Maybe."

"I need better than a 'maybe.' You need to get out of here and get some help. Any help. Even if it means calling Chegwidden." The younger man's objections were cut short with a wave of the hand. "Gunny, I don't know what Mac's injuries are. And it's a safe bet that it's easier for one of us to make it out than all three of us. . .We'll just make a bigger target."

While Gunny could agree with Harm's idea, he was reluctant to leave his two friends behind. Hesitantly, he gave in. "How should we go about it?"

It seemed silly, but at that particular moment Harm recalled a fake illness that he'd suddenly conjured up to justify being caught sneaking around Annapolis after hours. "Follow my lead." Moaning loudly, he hit the deck, covering his middle as he came to fetal position on the ground.

Gunny wrapped his hands around the iron bars on a small window at the door. "Help! This man needs help!" He was shoved back as two men entered the room. "I don't know what happened, he just collapsed!"

The biggest mistake that the terrorist made, was daring to squat down and look over the seemingly ill man. Harm managed to wrap his hand around the strap of the AK-47 bringing the terrorist down. He was quickly disarmed and unconscious as Harm clocked the man with the weapon as he rushed the other man. "Go, Gunny. . .Go!" From the corner of his eye he could see a good four men rushing to aid their comrades. By then Gunny had disappeared into the woods with two men following. A cacophony of firepower echoed in the region and by the fact that those two men never returned, Harm deuced that Victor Galindez had taken them out. He only hoped the man was still alive.

Harm didn't open fire but dropped his weapon and raised his arms in surrender. The men were yelling at him in Farsi, holding him at gun point. He was hoping he'd be escorted back into the hut, but instead, they waited. A man rushed out of the main home and walked right up to the group. He was quickly brought up to speed on the recent happenings and then took one of the guns from a man near him. "Fool." Lunging forward, he brought the handle of the gun hard against Harm's abdomen.

The blow brought him to the ground in pain. "Who are you?" He knew the answer, but for the sake of appearances, preferred to remain ignorant.

"I would ask you the same question, Mr. . ."

"Williams. . . Josh Williams." Harm grounded out, coughing as he tried to find his breath.

"I am Yourlsef Caled. But, why do I have this feeling that you knew that already?" Caled motioned for the men to raise Harm up, which they did with great effort. "Who was that man?"

Harm raised his head and for the first time looked into the eyes of terror. What he found in those orbs literally scared him. This was a lawless man who played by rules that were skewed beyond belief. "Victor Galindez. . .He works for my wife and I."

Caled pulled out two flat booklets, his and Mac's fake passports. "Ah yes, Jane Williams." He shoved the passports into his back pockets then stood, arms crossed and searching for answers. "My men told me that you helped this Victor escape, but you remained behind."

"Yes, this is true. . .I sent him out to fetch some diamonds. I was hoping to trade them for our lives."

Smiling, Caled softened slightly. "Good, I like it when I hear the truth. . .Why did you not try to escape with him?"

"My wife. . .She's pregnant, I will not leave her." He turned his head to the side, only to find Mac was now awake. Her hands were clutched around the iron bars on the windows. The look in her eyes nearly killed him. "Please don't hurt her."

Following Harm's gaze, Caled fixed Mac with an odd look. It wasn't anger, but pity. "Only a fool would bring his pregnant wife out into the jungle, Mr. Williams. . .Do you not love her enough?"

"I love her more than she knows."

Though the terrorist could feel the sincerity in Harm's voice, some things just didn't add up. Starting with the pictures on the passport. "Well, you'll soon have a chance to prove that. . .Now tell me." Reaching into his back pocket he retrieved both passports, holding each of them open. "Why is it that your pictures here match, identically with the pictures on your driver's licenses?"

Harm shrugged. "I'm an arms dealer. . .Our identification changes. It's a way to keep our identities secret."

Caled would buy that, if it wasn't for this nagging feeling and the current knowledge that Raul Garcia was dead. "Raul Garcia was killed. . .You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"No." Shaking his head, Harm glanced up at Caled again. "Does this mean we won't get paid? Oof!" Caled wound up and struck Harm on the abdomen again. He would have fallen if the men weren't holding him up. "What was that for?"

"Damned Americans and your money. . .There are bigger things at stake here!" Caled grabbed Harm by the hair, holding his head up so that the man could look at him. "Where did you get the computer parts and what are they for?"

This was a test, Harm knew, and one that he didn't have all of the answers for. Webb never told him where the parts had come from. He only hoped that any formulated answer would appease the terrorist. "They are for Stinger missiles. The parts are essential for them to fly straight. And I got them through the black market. . .There are US Military men who steal parts and sell them to me cheaply. . .I resell them. Guns, tanks, upgrades. Hell, I could probably get you the computer parts off of Air Force One."

"Hmmm, that's nice." Though Caled was appeased by Harm's answers. . .that damned nagging feeling. "Real nice, if you really are who you say you are." He spoke in Farsi to his men, commanding them to take Harm towards the torture shack.

From her vantage point, Mac could not hear what they were saying. It was obvious by Caled's posture that he was not going to let Harm off that easily. She'd awoken, disoriented, to the sound of gun fire. When she got her bearings and managed to pull herself upright, she'd seen Gunny on the run and Harm surrendering. She couldn't hear the conversation between Harm and Caled, but nearly felt every hit they'd given him. Now, she watched in fear as two men pulled him along towards a shack that was partially underground. That couldn't be good, she deduced. Men like Caled were a little too good at torture, something that Webb hadn't equated into their situation. "Where are you taking him?" She yelled, her eyes pleading with Caled who was standing in the middle of the field, watching. "Where are you taking my husband!"

Caled could not read her expression from his standing point, but her tone of voice was enough to please him. "Not to worry, Mrs. Williams, you will know soon enough." Turning, he hurried behind Harm and the two men.

Harm didn't resist his captors, instead allowed them to escort him to a small shack. At least, he didn't resist until a distinct smell of burnt flesh assaulted his nostrils. He knew that smell too well. A smell of death that he'd first experienced in a Laotian jungle. "Hey, look. . ."

"We're going to see if you are who you say you are. . .Ahmed, Kabir, you know what to do." Caled stood at the door way as his two men walked Harm in, holding him at gun point. "You are not resisting. You are the first man I've known that hasn't resisted." That was another point against Harm. The only persons who Caled could be assured would not resist were those who were trained to resist torture tactics.

The wooden walls had brown splatters against their fading and chipped, pale yellow paint. The floor was filthy, covered in mud, dirt and possibly excrement that it was better not to think about. A shelf towards the back wall hosted a plethora of tools, all of which were designed for their owners to live a more civilized life. In that shack, however, all types of civility took the back seat to the brutality men like Caled preferred to dispense. The table, which was nothing more than several stacked wooden blocks with a thick sheet of plywood nailed to the top, had some crude form of foot and arm straps made out of what appeared to be leather belts. To the side was a small wooden table with several car batteries lined side to side. Three of which had jumper cables attached. Several pieces of old, rusted steel wool lay scattered beneath the table. Harm felt a shove against his back as he was thrust into the room. "Please don't do this." One of the men made quick work of his shirt and that was when he stopped being so goddamned complacent. It was more of a knee jerk reaction than a rational thought. He was being held amongst men with automatic weapons, resisting was pointless, really.

And yet, his body's adrenaline began running on high, making him want to fight despite its fruitlessness. Harm shoved Ahmed and tried to make a run for the door only to be hit over the upper back with the butt of a weapon. It was then, with much difficulty (Harm was a good head taller than all of the men), that Ahmed and Kabir managed to raise his body up on the table. "That was foolish, Mr. Williams." He heard Caled say.

"Please! Don't do this!" Harm yelled again, much more forcefully as the men worked on tightening the restraints which cut, painfully, into his ankles and wrists. Ahmed threw on the switch, which sparked the electrical current. For a moment, everything was silent, save for the hum of electricity through the crude device. Turning his head to the side, Harm was able to see Caled's sick smile of pleasure as his men attached the steel wool to the jumper cables. Kabir took a bucket of water, tossing it over Harm's body. The liquid would become a form of conduit to allow the electricity to pass much more effectively.

Caled took a chair that was in the corner of the room and sat down just in front of Harm. He motioned for his men to be at the ready and then began the questioning. "Who are you?" But, the men did not wait for Harm to answer. Instead, they placed the steal wool on his torso, the electricity zapping through his body causing him to scream out in pain. Waving the men off, Caled moved in closer. "Who. Are. You?" He punctuated.

Harm took a breath, the urge to give his rank, name and serial number was almost given into until his brain reminded him of his cover. "Joshua Williams. . .I'm an arms dealer."

"Who is the woman you are with?"

"My wife." He said breathlessly, hoping to God the answers would appease Caled. Harm knew this was partially his fault. But he wasn't about to leave Gunny to die.

"Were you involved in Raul Garcia's attack."

"No!" He yelled, but failed to realize he'd hesitated slightly before answering and that was something Caled was prepared for. The agony of having the steel wool back on his body manifested in the guttural screams that he couldn't prevent. In his mind, all he could think about was Mac and the horrors that he would continue to endure if it meant protecting her. "Damnit. . . I said I wasn't involved."

But, Caled was not impressed. Nor was he content to have found such expensive items in the Williams' possession. "What were you doing carrying around such expensive jewelry?"

"My wife is a diamond expert. . .It's our currency."

Currency, yes, diamonds had become currency, but there was just one tiny problem. "And the necklace? And the ring? That wasn't just currency. Was it?"

"No, I bought those for her. . .I want Mac. . ." He caught his slip up fast enough to cover, "Jane to have good things." But it wasn't fast enough and soon another shot of electricity coursed through his body. This time, he was desensitized enough that his screams weren't as loud.

Caled couldn't help but find amusement in the sudden name change, and attempt at a cover up. It was clear that his methods had found their results. "Mac? Who's Mac?"

"Jane is. . .I call her Mac."

"Why?"

"It's just a pet name, nothing more." He wasn't sure just how much information these men had on Jane Williams. Fake information, but information that could cost him greatly if he mentioned the opposite.

Standing, Caled grabbed the chair and shoved it back into its corner. "Maybe I should go and get Jane Mac and see if she could. . ."

"NO!" Shaking his head vehemently, Harm pleaded with the terrorist. "No. . .Please, don't hurt her. She's pregnant. I'm going to be a father."

To say that all terrorists were heartless was a stereotypical accusation. Yourlsef Caled was not heartless, though he was a monster. He understood family and the need to protect those he loved. What he didn't understand were American ideals and the dirty Jews that they chose to side with. In his mind, that is exactly what the Williams' were – dirty Jews, with dirty money. They were a cancer that needed to be eradicated. "Release him." He ordered, his charitable nature deciding that it was best for the man to reunite with his wife before the next round of 'fun' began. "I'll allow you to join your wife now. Tomorrow, we shall try again and you will tell me the truth, Mr. Williams. . .My methods are brutal and effective."

While Harm didn't doubt that, he clearly wasn't going about to spill the information that he had on him. That would surely kill him. At least the torture he could survive. At least, he hoped he could.

Mac was grateful to hear that the screaming had stopped. Each painful yelp had broken her heart and torn at her insides. Worse of all, she was powerless to stop it and was aching with the knowledge that she could have prevented all of this, had she opted to stay in DC rather than take this mission. "Please hold on, Harm. . .Please. . .Oh God!" She brought a hand to her mouth, stifling a gasp when she saw him stepping out of the shack. He was walking with the assistance of the two guards that helped keep him upright. His shirt was open and she could see the red lines down his chest. Blood, she deduced, and was correct in her assumption.

Hurrying to the door, she stood just a few feet back, waiting for the men to unlock it and escort Harm in. "Oh God." She placed one of his arms over her shoulder and helped him walk towards the small cot which was next to the window. With a definitive slam, the door was locked and the men went on with business as usual. "What did they do to you?"

Harm leaned his head back against the wall, his body was slowly starting to come off of its painful roller coaster. His endorphins had to have kicked in. "Not enough." He said roughly, glancing at her with a saddened look. "You don't want to know." Gently, he slipped his hand into hers, the warmth of her body healing some of his emotional wounds.

"I heard. . .your screams." Mac bit her lower lip but it didn't stop the tears from falling down her cheeks. "What did they do to you?" She asked again, her voice hitching slightly as the question took the form of a plea.

Deftly, Harm undid the only two buttons that were fastened and allowed for the shirt to slide free off of his chest. He turned his head to the side, not willing to see the marks that he knew had to be the most prominent of features on his torso. "Car. . .Car bat-teries." He stammered.

Jaw clenched tightly, Mac tried not to voice her concerns out loud. It was clear to her that Harm wasn't nearly as ready for this as he'd thought. Pilots, they all went through training in order to protect themselves and their country if they were captured. But, one thing Mac knew for certain, the training meant shit when the actual acts occurred. "It'll heal." She said softly, then closed up his shirt and buttoned it back up.

Somehow, Harm's hand had managed to rest against the pregnancy suit. "I'm glad this isn't real."

"So am I." She confessed, though if it had been real, she doubted very much that Webb would have tapped her to run around in the jungle. "Gunny escaped?"

"Yeah. . .Hopefully he'll get out and find a way to send help. . .We can't be totally on our own." But, Harm knew that just being part of this CIA debacle was probably a death sentence for the both of them. "Mac, I'm going to do everything I can to keep them away from you."

While she was grateful, she'd be damned if he was willing to die for her. "Harm, don't. . .We're in this together. . . We'll get out of it together." Even if the 'out' meant dying with him.


	8. Brutal And Effective pt 2

**Okay gang, sorry for the delay on this one. Halloween weekened/week, it's like my Christmas. ;) Had a big party, goofed off, got slightly sober. Lots of fun and very busy! Whew **

**Anyway. Thank you everyone for zee feedback. I am hoping to roll a bit more with this one and Fine Art Of...**

**Enjoy! And don't worry about the cliffy! It'll be alright... somewhat. ;)**

**Jackie**

**Chapter 8 – Brutal And Effective pt 2.  
****0831 Local  
****Yourlsef Caled's Compound  
****Somewhere in the Chaco Boreal  
****Paraguay.**

Sleep was fitful at best and downright elusive at worst, but they managed to get a few hours worth before the next round began. Caled had chosen to spare Mac for the moment, his last shred of compassion going out to the pregnant woman who had been yanked through the jungle by her husband. They had to be Jewish he deduced, knowing too well how those types tended to love money at all costs. He'd added into the equation every stereotype available and a few of his own to justify his means. "Get up." He said, rather gently as he stood before the couple. They were still asleep despite the sliver of sunlight cast through the window onto them.

The woman, he noted, was holding the man against her as they lay side by side. "I said, GET UP!"

Slowly, Harm came to a sitting position, feeling Mac move behind him. He believed this had all been a dream, but to wake up with AK-47s pointed at them – the dream became more of the same nightmare. "I'm up. . ." He still hurt somewhat, though a lot of the pain from the day before had gone away. Not that it mattered, he was sure that yesterday was just a warm up for today's activities. "I'm up."

Caled took the only seat in the room and placed it before the couple. He straddled the chair and leaned forward, the impassive look ever present. "Mr. Williams, shall we try again?. . .Who was that man that you tried to rescue? And don't lie to me. . .This will be much more pleasant if you didn't lie."

Harm had a sinking feeling that, whatever he would tell Caled wouldn't be received well. Thus, it was better to stick to his original story and pray that the message would get through. "Victor Galindez. . .he worked for us. . .I helped him escape so that he could bring diamonds. . .Surely our lives are. . ."

"Stop. . .Stop." Caled waved him off, shaking his head sadly. "It appears to me that you may have been trained in the art of evasion. . .Much like US Marine Corps Gunnery Sergeant Victor Galindez."

Neither Harm nor Mac flinched, they didn't even move a muscle at the familiarity of Gunny's title. Instead, they each sported a look of shock, as if it were the first time Gunny's rank was uttered. "He was a Marine?" Mac asked, then placed a hand on Harm's shoulder. "Josh, he lied to us."

Yet, Caled, wasn't convinced. "That's amusing Mrs. Williams, really it is. . .But, I believe your husband here knows the truth." Lunging forward, he came to his feet, the chair crashing onto the ground. His hand wrapped around Harm's neck as he squeezed. "And I will get the truth from him. . . .Take him." Kabir and Ahmed took Harm once again, dragging him out of the cabin and towards the shack where the torture equipment lay.

"No!! Please don't!" Dejected, angered and scared, Mac came to her knees before Caled, her hands were clasped tightly in front as if she were kneeling in prayer. "Please don't hurt my husband."

Had it been another place and another time, Yourlsef Caled would have wanted to know more about this woman. But, his personal war had made him unrelenting and almost impossible. Still, he couldn't leave a pregnant woman on the ground. He offered a hand to her, gently pulling her up to stand. "Mrs. Williams. . ."

"Jane."

"Jane. . .This pleading will not help your husband nor your baby. Only the truth will." He was so bent on finding the missing pieces that he plotted another attempt that he hoped would work. "I will let him go right now if you can explain this." From his back pocket, he pulled out the passports and Ids, placing them side by side. "Why do both you and your husband have identical pictures on both the drivers license and passport?. . .Why is even the background identical?"

_Damnit!_ Had Harm given an answer? Would saying differently undermine whatever he'd said? The more time passed the more Mac realized that the last thing they were was prepared. "Josh wanted both the license and the passport to be changed. I do as I am told." Being naive seemed to work well in some situations. Then again, this wasn't her trying to get information at Home Depot with her patented damsel in distress, batting of the eyes, look.

"You do as told? Pardon me for saying, Jane, but women who are in this business aren't very fond of doing what they are told." Casually, he leaned against a thick, wooden piling in the middle of the room. "I'll give you one more chance. . .Give me information. Any information."

In the distance, Harm's screams could be heard, carried across the land in the arms of a stiff, southeasterly wind. The wails were clearer now, much more distinctive that those of the day before. Noises of the torture device turning on and off could be deciphered almost as clearly as the yelps. Ignoring Yourlsef, Mac kneeled on the bed, leaning towards the window and the bars that she wrapped her hands around. Every single time the device was turned on, a crackling sound echoed in the distance. Each crackle taking a piece of her with it. She wanted to turn around, to beat Caled into a pulp, but knew it would be all for naught. There was no chance in getting out alive if she acted on the rage she felt inside. At the moment, all she could do was hope that Harm wasn't bad off and that they wouldn't kill him. _God, please don't let them kill him!_ "Please. Just make it stop." She pleased with Caled, turning away from the sounds and away from the window.

"Who is Joshua Williams, Jane?" The question was so casual and yet poignant, that Mac would have sworn on a stack of bibles that Caled knew the truth.

"He is my husband and the father of my child." Neither thought brought her comfort anymore, especially since she was clinging to a lie. A lie that she hoped would get them rescued. Not that she'd expected a rescue, it would probably be days before Gunny could get someone here to rescue them _if_ he was alive. She turned towards the window again, noting that the screams had stopped. They were replaced by something else and almost faint enough to be missed, until the wind picked up and she could distinguish the sounds of someone being beaten. There were the muffled sounds of fists meeting flesh and the occasional groan from the recipient.

Shirtless, Harm stood, his arms held behind him by Kabir as Ahmed used him as a punching bag. Each punch felt like true hell against his already battered skin. He gritted his teeth against the pain, vowing to not allow them to make him scream again. The blow to his face was the last one before he sank into an abysmal oblivion. He wasn't completely unconscious, but enough to feel like he was levitating. A cold splash of water brought him out of his momentary slumber. It wasn't exactly a 'splash' he noted when water rushed through his nostrils and down his windpipe. They were drowning him. He fought against the desire to take a breath and tried to concentrate on blowing air out. It was only so long before the nitrogen in his bloodstream began to take command and the involuntary need for air began to grow.

With his hands, Harm managed to grab onto his assailant, but his weakness overrode that momentary swig of adrenaline. It felt as though the life was being sucked right out of him. They pulled him back up for the briefest amount of air, giving one of the men time to say something in Farsi. Then, he was plunged back down again. To top off his agony, memories of a cold night in the Mid-Atlantic hit him full force. Things that he was sure were forgotten came to him again – the cold, the rain, the fear. He could envision the SAR team passing over and leaving him there. Past his ramp strike, Harm had never felt such a strong urge to die.

The men pulled him out of the water again and, this time, dropped his body onto the floor. He could feel his muscles spasming as he curled into a fetal position, hoping to shield his body away from any other assaults. A scream finally left him as one of the men placed a boot which he twisted over a laceration on his chest.

Moving away from the window, Mac turned to Yourlsef, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Please, stop." The tears were real, as was the pain she physically felt at hearing his screams. "Please. Stop."

"We'll see." Caled moved out of the cabin locking the door behind him before crossing the courtyard on his way to the shack.

Screams continued through most of the afternoon. Each new sound cutting into her soul so deeply Mac was sure she wouldn't recover. This wasn't how things were supposed to be, and yet, in their tumultuous relationship maybe this was exactly how it was supposed to be. As much as she wanted him to be the great love of her life, the whole situation pointed towards a not so positive light. They were going to die, Mac was certain of that, and despite her past desire to die with something at stake, she'd prefer spending a few more years on planet Earth. What truly made her heart ache was the fact that Harm's death would be her fault and hers alone. "Why didn't I stay?" She choked out to no one in particular.

Hand pressed against the pregnancy suit, its contents came into her mind as Mac recalled placing the pink pistol inside its hiding place. They'd likely searched her and Harm for weapons and it was doubtful that they'd bothered to check elsewhere. Reaching under the blouse, her fingers found the zipper which she opened. Her fingers shoved through the padding, ultimately coming in contact with warm metal. Mac pulled the gun out and held it in her hand. Just the fact that the CIA was arming a 'pregnant woman' should have been sign enough of their demise. But, she wanted to believe that with Harm things would be different. How could it? Though they'd worked well as partners, their foray into Webb's ops always ended badly.

She heard a scream again, followed by the muffled sound of gun shots. Harm wasn't going to make it, of this Mac was certain. Training or not, there was only so much time before they broke you. Sadly, she eyed the gun in her hand. "It's the only way." She wasn't sure where she would wind up, or if she'd ever see Harm again, but she couldn't – wouldn't live without him. Slowly, she raised the gun up to her head and pulled the trigger. . .

. . .But, it wasn't real and the rough opening of the cabin's door woke Mac from a horrific slumber. She saw Harm, his body limp as Ahmed and Kabir carried him in. Standing, she moved from the cot taking some of Harm's weight which she promptly deposited on the cot.

He was a mess. The clothing was almost completely soaked with, what she hoped was just water. Blood was matted to his shirt. There were fresh abrasions on his arms and nicks to his face. Even unconscious, his body was shivering either from the cold or. . .something that she didn't want to consider. Nerve damage could be a tricky thing. "We are done with him for now, Sarah." It wasn't lost on Mac that Yourlsef had used her real name. She just hoped that the shock wouldn't show. "Oh yes, we know your real name now." Mac's consideration of remaining defiant was quickly erased when he produced a wallet sized picture of herself and Harm during the USMC/USN Gala two months earlier.. It had occurred before the Singer mess and was the first time that they'd all gone out as a group. Harm had been her unofficial date and the two of them had spent a lovely evening together.

In the picture, though it seemed a little worse for ware, it was obvious that they made a stunning couple. Harm was wearing a traditional, black tux (the big wigs decided to shirk the uniforms for one night) and she was wearing a deep red dress that accentuated all of the right places. They looked perfect together. "Sarah and Harmon – March 2003. . .You're not pregnant."

Mac couldn't find the words knowing that anything she said would certainly dig them in deeper. Instead, she held onto Harm. "You bastard."

"So be it. . .I will give you one more day to get your story straight with him. Tomorrow, if I like the story I will kill the both of you with a bullet to the brain, nice and painless. . .However, if I do not like the story. . .There will be more pain. . .Pain of the likes you've never felt before." He waited for a retort that didn't come and then stepped out, locking the door behind him.

Minutes later, Harm was starting to come to, his breathing was labored as the pain coursed through him, stealing his breath away. "They. . .know. . .who we. . .are." He said through gritted teeth. "I'm s-s-so sorry, Mac. . .Picture was in my jacket."

"It's okay. . .Just rest now, we'll find a way out of here."

He turned his head so that he could clearly see her face. She was so beautiful, even with the scratches and the dirt and the lack of a shower. And it pained him. God, did it pain him that he would never get to see just how a real relationship would work between them. "Mac. . .Do-do you still. . .have the gun?" Her nod confirmed it. "Good. . .then. . .use it. . .get out of here. . .run."

The fact that he was giving up hope wasn't lost on her. She felt the same way and still, part of her couldn't quit. "You're crazy if you think I am leaving you."

"You have. . .to."

"No." She said firmly, leaving no room for argument. "I'm a Marine, Harm. . .We don't leave our people behind."

It had been some time since she'd used the whole 'Marine' speech on him. He figured that somewhere along the way, she'd realized he trusted and respected her enough to not need to use it. This time was probably the worst time for her to resurrect it. "Goddamnit, Mac!" He cried out, chest heaving from the exertion. "Can't you see. . . I don't want you. . . to get hurt?"

"Harm. . ."

"No, damnit. . ." He grunted out, moving slightly away from her, at least, as much as he could considering their position on the cot. "You have. . .no idea. . .how bad this . . is. . .No idea what th-they did. . .to me. . .I can't. . .I can't do this. . .I can't. . .I won't. . .hear them. . .do that to you. . . Please, just. . .try to escape."

"Harm, I can't leave you."

"Mac, please!" He almost yelled out, his voice lowering slightly. "Get out. . .leave. . .You might be able to get help."

Help? Was he crazy? At the moment, Mac wasn't even sure where the hell they were, how did he expect her to find help? Not to mention, the notion of leaving him alone in the hands of Yourlsef Caled was just unthinkable. "Harm, what the hell do you think they are going to do to you once they see I've escaped? They're going to kill you."

"At the moment, death is welcomed."

"Don't say that."

"I'm sorry. . But, it's true."

There was no use in him arguing with her on the matter. She wasn't going anywhere. She wouldn't leave him even if the President himself ordered her to. "I'm not leaving, so stop trying to get rid of me." Swinging her legs off the side of the cot, Mac stood up and walked towards a stack of wooden crates against the wall. Curiosity had been absent in the last two days, so much that she hadn't realized the crates nor the fact that there were things in the cabin. Old things, but things nonetheless.

"What are you. . .doing?" Harm asked, lifting his head which he promptly laid back on the cot as the room began to spin.

"Looking." She said, carefully bringing down one crate and then another.

"For what?"

"Anything we can use." The first two crates were empty but the third was almost like finding a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. "It's a medic bag." With at least three hours of sunlight left, she could clearly see the medical cross symbol on an olive drab pack The musty smell from the bag signified that it had been there for a while, still any type of first aid supplies would do them good at the moment. Holding her breath, Mac rummaged through the bag pulling out several items including field dressings, a stethoscope, latex gloves and a small kit that contained creams of all sorts. Along with a package of water purification tablets, Mac found at least nine water pouches. Water pouches that Mac knew had around a five year shelf life. "Yes!"

Harm's interest, which had started to wean, was peaked again. Turning his head to the side, he found Mac holding a couple of white packets and, what appeared to be a large, green, plastic bag which held a full MRE meal. "Is that. . .what I think it is?"

"It's an MRE. . . I also found some field dressings and. . ."

"Probably expired anyway." He interrupted with a snort, then turned his head away. "Don't waste. . .your energy."

Mac placed the goods on the side of the cot and then raised each up towards the light from outside. "These usually have a five year shelf life, right?"

"Yes. Only if kept. . .room tempera-ture. . .If not. . .shelf life. . .decreases."

That was a chance Mac was willing to take. The water pouches could be used to clean up his wounds which she was then going to apply the field dressings to. The MRE, if she could find a date, might just do what they were designed to do – boost morale. "Slide over. . .I want to check the wounds." He didn't put up a fight, which Mac half expected. Instead, he did as told and even opened up the shirt to reveal the ugly burn marks all over his torso. Biting her lower lip, Mac studied the wounds as best she could. She blinked back the tears and then set to work in meticulous Marine mode. "This might sting a little."

"I fig-ured. . .Just. . .do it." He clenched his jaw tightly, preventing an audible scream to escape him as Mac poured the water over his chest. The pain gave way to a soothing effect and soon Mac was tearing open a gauze pad packet with her teeth and drying up the wetness. Field dressings were then applied along with antibacterial ointment that Mac found to still be of use. He was feeling marginally better, but couldn't control the shivers he was experiencing. Shivers that he hoped were only due to infection and cold. The last thing he needed to deal with was the thought of nerve damage. "Medic bags. . .usu-ally have. . .pain killers."

This bad wasn't an exception and the pain medication was the one thing Mac had cast aside. "It does." She assured, but was hesitant to give him something she wasn't familiar with. The pain medication packet had been opened beforehand and its little white pills were impossibly in descript. There was no documentation with the pills, no information of any kind. As far as Mac was concerned, they could have been rophynol or just regular, over-the-counter aspirin. "I don't know what they are."

"I'd snort. . .cocaine right now. . .if it numbed this." He sighed, cringing slightly as he tried to move his aching body. "Worth a try."

Reluctantly, Mac reached for the packet, pulled out a white pill and fed it to Harm, who swallowed it down with what was left of the water pouch. Sitting on the ground next to the cot, Mac watched intently for any changes in his condition. Ten minutes in, the shaking had stopped as did his soft moans. "Feeling better?"

"A little." He admitted, his eyes searching for her own. Harm reached his hand out to her, he needed the contact now, the feeling that he was really with her. "I'm sorry all of this got. . .so screwed up."

"It wasn't your fault."

"If I wouldn't have butted in. . .you probably wouldn't have been here."

Mac wrapped her other hand around their joined ones. "If I would have listened to you, we wouldn't be here either. . .I just. . ."

"You had to do this. . .and I had to follow. . .I couldn't let you do this alone, Mac. I just don't trust Webb. Not when your life is concerned." But there was more to it than that. The feelings he had ran so deep, so strong that he really felt he was the better man for the job. Maybe if he'd told her his feelings beforehand this situation would have never occurred. And maybe it was too late, but she needed to know. He had to tell her. "Mac." Harm's voice was soft, gentle. His touch on her hand was soothing as he ran his thumb over her knuckles. "This might be the absolute worst time to tell you this. . .But. . .I lo. . ."

The words never had a chance to meet the light of day as a massive explosion practically shook the cabin off of its foundation. Instinctively, and not without pain, Harm dove to the floor, his body covering Mac's. A series of explosions followed and neither of them could think of anything more ironic. A year ago, the exact same thing had happened. There was a Hallmark moment, an admittance in the making when Webb's orders took flight over their heads, obliterating any intimate (not sexual) interaction. "You okay?" Mac asked hearing Harm groan in pain as he tried to move off of her.

"Yeah, just winded." Leaning against the cot, he was able to glance out of the window to the sheer pandemonium that erupted outside. Yourlsef's men, the ones that were still alive, were scrambling about like ants. Nearly all of them were getting into vehicles or just running off on foot. The main house was on fire, the blaze burning through the near by trees which had served as a natural canopy for the area. "Caled is on the run." Harm said, seeing the terrorist slipping into a Jeep and heading off in the opposite direction from his men. "It's now or never, Mac."

Reaching into the pregnancy suit, she pulled out the pink weapon and cocked a round into the chamber. She then reached for the medic bag, slinging it over her shoulders before turning back to Harm. "Let's go." Mac shot through the door, emptying nearly half of the cartridge on bolts that didn't seem to budge. When they stepped outside, the pair was met with automatic gun fire from behind a stationary vehicle. Mac hit the ground hard, with Harm's body covering her own. She managed to squeeze off a couple of shots, ending the life of their attacker.

Harm slowly got back on his feet, the adrenaline of escape numbing the pain enough for him to move. Still he needed her help and accepted her shoulder to lean on as they ran as best as possible past all of the cabins, ducking as more explosions landed in the area. "Remind me to shoot Webb!" He yelled, as they set off again towards a barn-like structure. They managed to open up one of the massive doors only to find something altogether pleasant inside.

"A Stearman?" Mac said in surprise as the vintage pain sat proudly before them. "Can you fly us out of here?"

Once the plane was airborne, it would be fairly easy to fly in his condition, but to get it up or down would be considerably difficult, especially since the shaking had returned. "I don't know. . .It's our only chance though, before the CIA drops the next bomb right on our asses." As he moved towards the plane, Harm caught sight of a wooden box labeled '_M67 Fragmentation Hand Grenade.' _"Mac. . .Grab a few." To shield them from the wind, he also took two of the five jackets that were hanging on screws. He slipped one of them on and tossed the other to Mac.

The exertion from climbing onto the Stearman had Harm shaking again. He reached for a pair of goggles hanging near the instrument panel and slipped them on. Taking a deep breath he took the stick, the shaking becoming worse as he tightened his grip. "Ready?" He croaked out as Mac hopped in the front and slipped on her pair of goggles. As the Stearman rolled out of its hanger, Mac stowed the medic pack to the side, away from any cables or instruments.

Following a dirt road which was obviously created for use with the plane, Harm soon came up to a clearing. It was a tight squeeze, but he could get the plane out; he had to. "You ready, Mac?"

"I'm never ready for this! The first time you took me flying I got shot by a psychotic poacher!" She yelled over the sounds of the prop, only to bring a deep chuckle from Harm. "What's so funny?"

He maneuvered the plane into place. "Memories, Mac. . .Hang on." Before long, he had the plane air bound. The adrenaline running through his veins stopped the shaking and nearly took away all of the pain. Swinging the Stearman around, Harm opted to follow the dirt road in hopes that one of Yourlsef's men would lead them to the Stingers. The bombs had nearly leveled Yourlsef's hacienda and there was a small satisfaction in finding the torture shack ablaze. Now all they had to do was find and permanently silence his torturer.

The flight path took them over the lush, Paraguayan jungle which seemed to swallow the dirt road more often than not. Flying his Stearman always had a calming, almost meditative effect on Harm, something that he didn't need at the moment. The second he began to relax, the pain was back and so was the shaking. A night carrier landing seemed like a cinch compared to the fear he was experiencing. It wasn't just his life in his hands. The woman he loved was in the front seat and the pressure for him to see this through was almost insurmountable.

"Harm!" He found her hand extended out towards two o'clock and after glancing off the side of the plane, he spotted it. A large storage building with steel roof seemed to sprout from the outcropping in the center of a field. "The stingers must be inside that semi!" Mac yelled over the sound of the propellers, she held her breath when Harm turned the plane sharply and made another pass of the area.

While the first pass had been uneventful, the second was nearly catastrophic. Even through the noise of the plane's engine, the sounds of automatic firepower echoed in the vast expanses. "Damnit! Mac, grab the grenades! I'm going to take us lower."

Lower? She gulped, the thought of moving lower to the incoming bullets not appealing. "Roger that!" Taking one of the grenades in her hand, Mac pulled the pin and waited for Harm to make a lower pass before dropping it. The explosion was stronger as the grenade landed atop a flatbed truck. It sent men flying everywhere and substantially lowered the body count of their enemies.

"Hold on, Mac, going to round them again." As Harm went to point the plane upward he felt the bullets riddling the back side of the plane. "Damnit!" Thankfully, the integrity of the plane itself was still intact and the bullets came nowhere near the engine. He did a full loop and then went straight downward on a dive, the exertion nearly blinding them both before he pulled back on the stick and straightened the plane.

"Harm! Incoming!" The orangeish blast was a clear indicator that some sort of rocket propelled device had been fired at them. Mac gripped the sides of the plane and closed her eyes as Harm pulled the stick back, sending them straight skyward. The pair let out a collective sigh of relief when the device detonated a good hundred feet behind them. "RPG." If it had been a Stinger, with its infrared seeker, they would have been sitting ducks. "Make another pass!" She readied another grenade and then waited to drop it. Much to their chagrin, there was no explosion. "It was a dud!"

The rat-tat-at of automatic weapons, though less than before, was more effective. The bullets pierced the steel of the plane, causing the engine to stall. "Shit!" He managed to straighten the flight pattern, praying that the engine would hold until they could make a final pass. "Try again, Mac."

"I need you to go lower. I only have one grenade left!" In their rush to head out, she'd only managed to grab three. She only hoped that their last effort wouldn't be for naught. Wordlessly, Harm came about, this time lowering the altitude so substantially it almost seemed as though they were about to hit the building's steel roof.

Harm tilted the plane on its side, giving Mac a clear path to drop the grenade through. "Now, Mac!" Anticipating the explosion, he pulled the stick back, sending the plane almost straight skyward. A sound, unlike anything either of them had heard before, echoed almost painfully with a bright, white flash of light and a strong, stiff wind that could have rivaled the Atomic Bomb. As he made to level the plane, a jerk on the stick was the final straw for the biplane's engine. It sputtered violently making the flight anything but smooth as Harm tried to control their rapid rate of decent. "Mac. . .We're going down!"

The trees bellow came closer and closer, ready to touch the belly of the plane. Mac conceded to the fates, giving up any real beliefs that this trip would be the turning point for them. Harm concentrated on trying to put them down as best as possible. No training in the world would ever prepare you for the real thing.

Grunting, he fought the plane as it came down through the trees crashing against leaves and limbs before finally hitting the ground. Its movement continued as it slid down an embankment. He felt the dirt, rocks and leaves whipping against his face and barely managed to keep his eyes opened as a rather large tree came into view. They hit it hard, the collision throwing both he and Mac forward, the seatbelts slamming them back again. No, training was absolutely useless when you were hurling to the ground at immeasurable speeds through the trees - even more useless when the crash landing left you unconscious.


	9. Please Don’t Let It Go

**Wooooh!!! Love the reviews I am getting on this one. Most have been along the lines of "THEY SHOULD HAVE DONE THIS!" I know!! That's why I am writing it!! SHeesh!!**

**  
Extra special kudos to V, for just betaing this sucker so well. Most of my writing, lately, occurs at around 11pm-3am and, well, yeah, no matter how "Awake" you think you are. . .yeah right. Some of my writing at that time makes it look like I just learned English two days ago. ;)**

**Neways. . . Those rooting for me in my massage work, cross, fingers, knees and toes if you can. . .I might have something big coming up. whew Hey, never hurts to ask for a little assistance of the metaphysical kind. ;)**

**Take care gang!**

**Enjoy!**

**Jackie**

**Reviews: I am going to start reviewing your reviews. . .responding? Whatever, after I post a chapter, this way I am already pumped. I Love responding, but sometimes I am not in the mood. Posting gets me in the mood. . Get your head out of the gutter!! Yes… YOU!! Sheehs!!**

**Chapter 9 – Please Don't Let It Go**

**  
****1345 Local  
****Somewhere In The Chaco Boreal  
****Paraguay**

Pain. It was the only feeling that really kept you angry. And if you were in pain and you were angry, that meant one, wonderful – or in Harm's case – horrible thing, that you were still alive. He took a deep breath, realizing that something was blocking his need for air. With some effort he pressed himself back into the seat and immediately was able to take a deep breath. What the hell had happened? He wasn't too sure and quickly regretted opening his eyes. The world seemed to spin right before him and pain unlike anything he ever felt before surfaced like tidal waves through his body.

Blinking a few times, he was able to shake the haziness somewhat and focus on where he was – a plane, in the forest? Then, it all came flooding back – the diamonds, the Stingers, Caled, Mac pregnant, the torture – Mac? Where was Mac? As his eyesight improved, he was able to spot his partner who was hunched over in her seat and clearly not awake. "Maa-ac." He croaked out, then winced loudly in pain.

Besides the aches all over his body, there was something new, something that seemed to override any other type of ache. Lifting the jacket up, he noted the growing blood stain on the shirt beneath, around his lower left side. Raising his shirt, he gazed at the gash which was bleeding a bit too much for his liking. "How the hell?" Looking around the cockpit, he found the culprit to his injuries in a metal bar which had apparently broken during impact. He could only deduce that when he was thrust forward, the force had impaled the broken bar into his side. "Damnit." Reaching his hands up, Harm released the shoulder harness and then stood up. A wave of vertigo nearly slammed him back into his seat, but he prevailed, and carefully walked what was left of the wing until he came up on the front cockpit. "Mac?" His hand came to her neck, pressing against a pulse point that he found to be strong and steady. "Mac?"

Pushing her back, he was saddened to see the angry red marks on her face, the cuts from slamming through the trees until their ride came to an abrupt end. Marks that, he was sure, matched some of his own. "Mac, wake up, please." He wasn't sure how far they'd flown before the crash. All he knew was that they were still relatively close to Caled's men. At least, the ones who had survived the explosion. "Mac? Damnit, MacKenzie, snap to!"

His order was met with a low groan before her brown eyes met his own. Harm was glad to find that her pupils were not dilated. "Did we land?"

"Not sure if you could call that a landing." He snorted, shaking his head in distraught. "The wings got torn off. The plane is a wreck. . .How are you?" Reaching into the cockpit, he released her from the harness, then waited a moment for her answer before attempting to get her moving.

Mac eased her neck to the sides, trying to crack the kinks out. "My head is pounding. . .How are you?"

"Not good." Choosing not to elaborate, he helped her onto the seat and then down the wing before retrieving the medic bag which he handed to Mac. "I hurt my side. . ."

"How bad?" She made to reach for the side that he was clutching, but Harm quickly evaded her. "Harm? How bad?"

He shrugged, "Just bruised, but it hurts. . .Look, we gotta get moving and put as much distance as we can between us and Caled's men. . .I'm still weak, Mac. . ." The adrenalin was the only thing keeping him going at the moment.

Learning had not been difficult when it came to Harm, executing was a completely different thing. As much as Mac wanted to check his injuries, this was something she learned he'd argue to death. She'd agree to them getting a move on while keeping an eye on him. "East. . . Ciudad del Este is to the East." Glancing up through the trees and then consulting her internal clock, she figured out the sun's position. "That way." She pointed forward, then shouldered the medic bag. "Can you walk?"

"Let's get going." He set off before she could help him, each step providing a new shot of pain through his body. At least, for now, the shakes were gone.

**1245 Local  
****JAG Headquarters  
****Falls Church, Virginia**

There was nothing that Admiral AJ Chegwidden hated more than bad news. "They what!?!" He yelled into the phone as Deputy Director Kershaw, of the CIA, filled him in on the latest news about his senior JAG team.

(_"They've gone missing."_ Kershaw was not a fool when it came down to dangerous missions and though a gut feeling told him not to send off two JAG lawyers, he really couldn't help himself. The pair seemed to be a better team than any of his current operatives. Best of all, they were an untapped resource and two of the most trusted persons he could find. _"I don't need to tell you that it was a sensitive mission."_)

AJ removed the phone from his ear and stared at it as if it had grown two heads. "A sensitive mission? Hell yes I know it was a sensitive mission! I had reassurances, Harrison! Webb promised me that Colonel MacKenzie would be alright! Two days ago you assured me that Commander Rabb would also be alright! That they had back up and a bodyguard. What the hell happened between now and then?"

(Oh, what happened indeed. Never in his wildest dreams could Harrison Kershaw believe that the mole, or at least, one of the moles, was so closely involved. "_Their driver and bodyguard, Alvaro Mendoza, was a double agent. . .Intel is not complete, but it is possible he leaked the Commander and Colonel's identities to Yourlsef Caled."_)

"Tell me that you are, at the very least, sending someone in after them?"

(Kershaw cringed slightly. When would they get it? _"You know we don't do that."_)

"There's a SEAL team, right now, doing advance training off the coast of Brazil. . .They can go in and. . ."

(This is why he hated dealing with the military folks. As much as Kershaw admired their flare and tenacity, the CIA lived by a different rule, one that most would not understand, but it was a rule nonetheless. _"Admiral, I know the military has a knack of rescuing their own. . .you're out of jurisdiction on this one.")_

"Out of jurisdiction? Those are _my_ people you brought into this mess, Harrison! Out of jurisdiction? I can get the President on the phone. I am sure he'd love to know that the deputy director of the CIA sent two JAG lawyers on a dangerous mission due to the insurmountable amount of leaks at the agency!"

(_"You wouldn't.")_

"Try me." The SEAL in him would never die, that was clear from all of the odd assignments his staff had to carry on through the years. For the most part, unless ordered to, AJ lived by the SEAL code and believed in one of its key points. "We don't leave our men – or women – behind. . .You send someone to find them and I better have a progress report as the search moves along. . .So help me Kershaw, if you don't comply, leaks in the agency would be the least thing for you to worry about." As a final parting, he slammed the receiver against the cradle and then leaned back into his chair.

As much as AJ trusted Harm and Mac's combat abilities, he knew the mission was nothing like what the Navy or the Marines were used to. There was no back up, no fancy weapons, and no Kevlar. If something had gone seriously wrong, he doubted very much that Harm and Mac would live through it. It wasn't that unheard of for a person to head into a third world country and never be heard from again. "God help them."

**1550 Local  
****Somewhere In the Chaco Boreal  
****Paraguay**

Harm's lungs were on fire as he strived to take a deep breath. Pain was shooting from every part of his body, but not as much as his side, which certainly was now infected. He was battling the heat, the terrain and a raging fever, which he'd managed to hide through most of their hike.

Now, Harm was at Mac's mercy.

He was leaning heavily against her, making the trip that much more difficult. His legs felt heavy, as did his body which craved a moment or two of peace and tranquility. It was when he tripped and nearly brought them both down, that Harm decided to voice a suggestion, "Mac, we need to stop. . .please. . .I need a break."

For her part, Mac had been trying to find something, anything, that would get them back to Ciudad del Este. The more they walked, the more she realized that the terrain would not give them that missing piece she had been looking for. There were no cars, no horses, no trucks, not even another plane that they could use as their method of escape. There was nothing, but a god forsaken jungle. And while she agreed with his need for rest, she wasn't about to stop in the open, where they could be spotted easily. "Alright. . .Over there." She pointed to a woody area and set them towards that general direction. Five minutes later, she helped Harm sit and lean against a tree. Carefully, she looked around the area, making sure there would be no surprises of the natural kind. "I think we can stay here for a few hours, rest, eat something and then get on the move again." She pulled the medic bag off, then squatted down, just a couple of feet away.

Harm had always admired Mac's 'gung ho' attitude when it came to insurmountable situations. But, this one time, he wished she'd take it easier, calmer even. Clutching his side, he rested against a tree as she rummaged through the medic pack for what was left of the MRE. "Mac. . .We have to slow down." His words were clipped, his breath was almost difficult to keep as each intake of air only made the pain worse.

"We can't. . .The longer we're out here, the more chance we have that Yourlsef's men would find us. Mac believed there was a way out, Marine training kept her moving towards the East where she knew Ciudad Del Este would be.

The truth would have made this process much more easier on Harm, but the last thing he wanted was to worry Mac more than she was. With Mac's obvious interest in the MREs, he managed to pull open his jacket and check on the wound at his side. He was bleeding, more than an acceptable amount. To top it all off, the shakes were back, preventing him from even holding the tab to the jacket's zipper.

"Here." Mac handed him one more white tablet, of the supposed pain killer that was in the medic pack along with a pouch of water that she opened for him. He pretended to take it, spitting the pill out when she turned her attention back to the medic pack. The last thing he needed was to bleed out more, which would likely be the reaction to taking the medication. Using the pair of rusted scissors from the pack, Mac cut off a piece of her shirt and used some water to moisten it. She ran the cloth over Harm's face, cleaning off the grime and dirt and then left it at the back of his neck. "I'm going to get you through this, Harm."

The irony of the situation wasn't lost on Harm, who couldn't help but chuckle. "Didn't I tell you the same thing six years ago? When we were running away from poachers?" Back then it was _his_ fault they'd gotten into that sticky situation. In his excitement to take her flying, he hadn't done as good a job checking on the Stearman as he was supposed to.

Mac shrugged, "Yeah, I guess we're even now?" Damnit, he'd offered so many times in the past to take her flying again and she'd refused him with banter about his flying abilities and a wink to let him know she was kidding. Now, she wished she'd taken his offer to learn. Hindsight was definitely 20/20. "I'm sorry we crashed. . .The MRE should be warm enough by now." She said, pointing to the box where the MRE lay inside of the instant heater.

"I'm not hungry." Harm grunted, then finished off the last of his water pouch and settled more comfortably against the tree.

"You have to eat something. You need your strength."

"I'm not eating, Mac!" He hadn't meant to snap at her, but that was exactly how it came out. It wasn't her fault, he just couldn't help himself.

Halfheartedly Mac ate half of the MRE entrée, leaving the other half for Harm. She washed it down with half of a water pouch and then secured all of the goods before resting against a tree across from him. She studied him, noticing the pallor of his skin and the labored breathing that she'd only just noticed. It was understandable, up to twenty minutes ago they'd been on the run, trying to get away from the wreckage as fast as possible. "Damnit." Mac cursed softly, then got up to her knees and crawled over to Harm who had nodded off. She should have noted his discomfort earlier, making him walk such a long distance while he was in pain was insensitive on her part.

Grabbing his hand, Mac made to pull it away from his body, when she noticed the pinkish hue on his fingertips - sticky and metallic smelling - it was blood. "Harm?" As she made to pull open his jacket and check on his wounds, a rustling of the tree leaves above caught her attention. The smell of atmosphere was strong and in the distance a rumble of thunder signaled the storm that was to come. Then there was another sound, a distinct 'choppy' sound that could only come from a helicopter. Somehow, she doubted that the CIA had suddenly decided to look for them. "Harm, get up, we gotta move now!"

Neither the water nor the bit of rest had done him good at all. If anything, it had done him worse. Maybe Mac had been right to continue moving? Sadly, he glanced up at her, managing to shake his head. "I can't, Mac. . .You go. Please, just. . ."

"We went through this already, I'm _not_. Leaving. You." Mac punctuated, then grabbed at his jacket with her hands and used most of her strength to try and get him up. "Get up, Harm!!"

Harm pushed her away, his anger bringing up some of the strength he felt slipping away. Why couldn't she understand it? He was hurt, injured. She needed to leave him behind and there was nothing more to it than that. "Damnit, MacKenzie, get the hell out of here! That's an order!" He spat, his eyes affixing her own with a bitter glare.

Ignoring Harm's order, Mac slung the pack onto her shoulder and made a quick scan of the area, trying to find a spot close enough that they could hide in. "I got news for you, _Commander_, you can't order me. . .We're the same rank and to get technical, I was promoted three months earlier than you. . .I have seniority, now, get your ass up!" She tried to pull him to his feet, but was met by the same despondent attitude.

"MAC. . .Don't you. . ."

Had it been another situation, Mac wouldn't have been able to lay her heart on the line so openly. Despite the new direction of their relationship, she was still unsure of what he wanted from her. And if what he wanted matched her own want. Nevertheless, the words came out, unrestricted and with such conviction that it was impossible to deny anymore. "Damnit, I'm in love with you!"

The heaving of her chest signified the emotions burning inside of her. She fought the tears that stubbornly snuck out at the thoughts of leaving him there to the elements or, worst still, Caled's men. "I'm in love with you and I am not leaving you out here to die. . .Please, don't ask me to do that." A solitary tear slid down her cheek and that seemed to be the clincher which got her message across to him. She wouldn't leave without him.

Summoning up his inner strength, and with Mac's help, Harm came, unsteadily to his feet. "The chopper is getting closer." It was an obvious observation, but Harm couldn't really find anything else to say. No words could match the emotional impact that Mac had rocked him with. It felt odd not to have to doubt her feelings anymore or compare her actions against his own. She loved him, it was as simple as that. She loved him and for all of its simplicity, they were in the most complicated situation of their lives. The Fates really were cruel.

Clutching his side, Harm tried as much as possible not to lay too much of his weight on Mac. Walking by himself was close to impossible, but at the very least, he'd managed to move a little faster than earlier. It was likely the adrenaline pumping through his veins, forcing him to keep moving, to keep them alive. As the sound of the rotor blades grew louder, the foliage above them was moving furiously, whipping up along with dirt which was making it difficult to see. Adding a bit more to their misery, the skies chose that moment in time to open up and pour their bountiful moisture onto the area. Harm only hoped it would make it _that_ much more difficult for the persons in the helicopter to see. Ducking down next to a fern, they waited as the chopper swung around and then headed back again, making its canvas of the area. When it was at the far end of its circular pattern, they set off again, trying to put as much distance from the plane and the wreckage as possible.

"There!" Mac had spotted, and was pointing at a crop of banana trees, its lush arrangement of thick leaves making it the ideal place to hide. The chopper began to head towards their location and for a brief moment, Mac was certain that they'd been discovered. Slipping into the crop, they managed to keep low, walking through until they found a tree which had bigger leaves and was a decisively better place to hide.

"What if. . .they're CIA?" Harm asked, his body protesting greatly against the physical exertion..

Pressing the back of her hand to Harm's forehead, Mac decided it was time for another water bath. "No, it's not the CIA." She said, while reaching into the medic bag for a water pouch. "They won't be looking for us. Even if Gunny got back safely, I don't think we have a chance in hell of being rescued." She poured the water directly over his face, then ordered Harm to open his mouth and drink.

"I told him. . .if he made it out, to get Chegwidden involved."

"I don't think it's that easy, though. . .I really think we're alone on this, Harm. . . I think we should consider any contacts in Paraguay to be the enemy."

He hated having to run under those pretenses, but Harm knew she was right. "Yeah, I know. . ."

The helicopter circled the area, its rotor blade destroying some of the leaves around them. From their vantage point, they could see when the machine flew right over them, no less than twenty feet away from the ground. Mac closed her eyes tightly, praying, willing for the helicopter to miss them completely. It did, but not before taking one more sweep of the area. Apparently satisfied that their query was nowhere near the field, the chopper headed East, away from them.

Harm breathed a sigh of relief and when he glanced up at Mac, he found her mouth agape and eyes wide. "Mac? What is?" Following her glaze he immediately knew what she was looking at and only hoped it wasn't as bad as he felt it was.

"Oh God. Why didn't you tell me?" Carefully, she leaned over him, checking the gash on his side. "Damnit, Harm!" The two inch long wound was still bleeding, seeping out the life giving substance. She could still see a piece of some sort of metal inside. "You still have something in there."

Sighing, he shook his head. "I. . .I'm sorry."

Sitting back on her haunches, Mac glanced around through the vegetation. "We can't stay put. . .and I'm not leaving you." She quickly added, staring at him sternly. The rain was lessening, making it a little easier to look at his wound again without getting water in her eyes. She wasn't a doctor, but it was clearly obvious that it didn't bode well. Though it was likely that a piece of clothing could slow down the bleeding, it wouldn't stop. Worse yet was the piece of metal which couldn't be removed unless there was something there to quickly close the wound. Pain killers were out for the moment, he'd have to suffer the pain of his injuries or bleed out. Then there was the thought of an infection which was already sinking in, judging by Harm's pallor. It would have been easier to stay put and dream of rescue, but that just wasn't going to happen. The only choice was to keep moving. Mac scrubbed her hand over her face and sighed. "Can you keep on moving?"

"I don't. . .ye-yes." In all likelihood, he could keep moving, how long was a different matter. "Mac . ."

Whatever he had to say would wait for now. Mac just couldn't hear him giving up or begging her to leave him. She wasn't planning on doing that, especially considering that she didn't know where they were and how far help was. If there was help, that is. "Let's go." She shouldered the medic bag and then helped Harm come to his feet. A good amount of his weight rested against her as they set off. "Just hang in there."

"I'll try." He really didn't want to confess that his wish to 'hang in there' was dissipating by the second.

They set off towards the East again, moving towards Ciudad del Este with the hopes that something would make the trip easier for Harm. An hour later, though the rain had eased, the wet clothing had made his body a prime breading ground for illness. A fever was raging, making Harm's body weaker than before. He stumbled over a limb and brought the two of them down hard. It had taken a true act of God to get them on the move again. Mac was shouldering a good deal of Harm's weight, thoughts of dying out in the middle of the Paraguayan jungle were the only things that kept her moving. Still, that motivation did no good if your body was starting to give up without consent.

It was a flash of lightening that had renewed Mac's hope. A flash that had illuminated everything around and even a small shack a good fifty yards away. "There." She pointed and sighed in relief. "If anything, we'll have someplace safe to sleep tonight."

"Safe. . .Good." Harm used the last of his energy to help Mac walk him towards the shelter. The closer they got, the easier it was to make out the shape of a small utility shack with its home adjacent to it. By the looks of things, the home appeared to be unoccupied, but rather than risk a surprise attack by a disgruntled home owner, Mac chose to slip into the shack. In the dark, they bumped into several things, one of which, oddly enough, felt like a bed. Carefully, she placed him on it, making sure his body would not fall off any of the areas.

"Hang tight. . .I'm going to see if I can find something." Feeling her way, Mac's fingers slipped inside the medic pack. "Matches." She pushed open the box, took a match out and struck it on the side. Immediately the little light welcomed her to the world surrounding them. Carefully monitoring the flame's progression up the match, she eased forward, locating a kerosene lantern. As best as she could with one hand, she examined the lantern and once satisfied that it had the fuel necessary, she blew out her match, took out another and lit the lantern.

Lowering the flame output, a warm glow bathed the wooden walls. It was just enough light for her to check on Harm without them being detected. Placing the lantern next to the cot which he was lying on, Mac leaned over immediately placing a hand over his forehead. "You're burning up."

"I'm so cold." He was shivering again, almost violently this time. He was also dizzy, nauseous and his ability to see was dwindling from the blood loss. He was losing consciousness and though he was trying hard to slow its progression, soon it would overcome him. "Mac. . .Listen. . .if. . .if I get worse, leave me."

"I am not leaving." Without permission, she pulled up his shirt, her eyes scanning over the gash. The blood loss wasn't as bad as she'd anticipated, but still it bled. There also was a major concern over the metal object inside. Was it deep? Did it cause injury to any of his organs? Removing it, while seeming to be the more viable option, would certainly make him bleed out more if nothing was done to close the wound. "Try to hold on a little longer." She was tired of telling him that, especially when she knew there was nothing to hold on for.

With the aid of the lantern, Mac was able to glance around the shack, finding it to be more of a storage room. There were wooden boxes lining most of the walls, one of which she found to carry blankets and old clothing. She shook (did you mean "shook"?) out the clothes, riding them of any dust or critters that may have crawled into them and then took a blanket and did the same. Quickly, she set to work on pulling the wet clothing off of Harm, a task made difficult by his shaking. "I'll warm you up, I promise, but you have to try to help me."

It took a great amount of effort to raise his torso in order for Mac to strip off his wet polo and toss it to the side. She then began to work on his pants as Harm slipped on a dry shirt. Again, the feeling of unconsciousness began to claim him. He was so far gone now that even the pain of his side was becoming a memory. _No, please. Hold on. I have to._ _I can't die, not yet. Not yet._ There were so many things he wanted to do. So many things he needed to say. Would he ever get the chance?

Mac stripped off all of her clothing, pregnancy suit and all. She kicked off her shoes, pulled off her socks and brought her naked body over Harm's before covering the two of them up with the blanket. "Stay with me." She breathed, wrapping her arms around him as tightly as possible. Glancing up she found his eyes were barely open and his breathing and heart rate had slowed down most alarmingly. "Stay with me." She commanded more sternly.

There was a rustling behind them and a cocking of a rifle before a male voice commanded in Spanish. "No se muevan!" (Don't move!)


	10. Overburdened

**Loooooooook ma' NO CLIFFY!!! ;)**

**Enjoy**

**J.**

**Chapter 10 – Overburdened  
****1945 Local  
****Somewhere in the Chaco Boreal**

"Le dije que no se mueva!" (I told you not to move!) The man yelled, pointing the gun towards Mac who had made an attempt to reach for the pregnancy suit and her pistol within. It was obvious that the man was not a terrorist, they would have probably come in, guns a-blazing and all that would be left of her and Harm was a bloody stain on the cot.

Beneath her, Mac could feel Harm's breathing slowing down. Turning only her head she glanced at the intruder to find the barrel of a shot gun dangerously close to her face. "Please. . .Por favor." She tried her best for her knowledge of the Spanish language to kick in. Out of all of linguistic abilities, it was the only one that she didn't have a strong grasp of. "Estamos. . .ayuda?. . .We need help." She said, hoping the gentleman with the gun was bilingual.

Another man stepped inside, this one younger, apparently in his teenage years and also holding a shot gun in his hands. "Quien son?" (Who are they?)

"No se. . .Buscala, ella sabe que hacer. . .Appurate!" (I don't know. Find her, she'll know what to do. Hurry!) Carefully, the older of the two settled against the wall as the younger set out running out of the shack. The man didn't seem menacing at all, more like a farm worker who was leery of the strangers he'd found on his land. That was understandable, of course, they had come in rather uninvited. "Son Americanos?"

"Americans, si. . .Ummm, problemas. . . grandes. . .We're in trouble. . .He's umm, enfermo." Mac tried her best to explain their situation, stressing that Harm was hurt. "Nesesita, ayuda."

The man nodded, comprehending what she was telling him. Still, he had an obligation to his family and wouldn't endanger them without necessity. Mac figured that they were waiting for the head of the household, but was surprised that it was a woman. She was short and stocky, with brown hair that was sprinkled with grey. She wore a Sunday dress and an apron that was covered in some sort of concoction. And she didn't seem altogether unpleased that Harm and Mac were her new guests. There was another man, however, appearing to be in his mid-twenties that was clearly unimpressed by their visitors. "Quien son ustedes?" (Who are you?) The man said, his scowl deepening as he stepped closer to the couple.

Mac straightened up as much as possible without exposing her nakedness. "Americans. . .We got lost. . .eh, perdidos."

Whatever she had said, the woman had found funny. She laughed deeply and richly, then nudged the older of the men. "Pablo, te dije que ellos ivan a venier, tu nunca me crees!" (I told you that they would come, but you never believe me.) She waved at the other man, urging him to lower his weapon. "Ellos son Americanos, del ejercito, y nessesitan nuestra ayuda." (They are Americans, from the military and they need our help.)

"Estas loca! Si alquien los escuentran, nos van a matar! Or peor!" (You are crazy! If someone finds them here, they will kill us or worse!) Pablo yelled, exasperated at the woman's 'visions.'

Sighing, she turned to the younger of the three and took the rifle from him, leaning it against a box. "Aldo, ve a la casa, trai aqua y pan, por favor." The woman smiled at Mac, who kept shooting glances of concern between the people. "Yo soy. . .I try to espeek eh, eenglish, pero, es dificir. . . hard."

Mac nodded. "I know a little Spanish. . .poquito espanol."

The woman pointed to herself and smiled. "I, Carmen del Valle, he Pablo, my old son." She said, pointing to her right and then motioned towards the left to a man that had lowered his rifle. "My son, Miguel and. . .he ran. . is Aldo."

"Nice to meet you. . .umm, mucho gusto." Comfortable enough to move, she shook Harm, frowning when he didn't respond. "Harm? Harm please." Sighing, she turned towards Carmen Graciella. "El. . .enfermo. . .injured. . .mucha . . .blood. . .sangre."

The woman moved forward, trying to see what she was referring to and quickly sat back when Mac pulled the sheets closer around her. Glancing around, she found their clothing in a sloppy, wet pile. "Miguel, busca ropas para ellos. . .Get clothes. . .for you."

"Thank you." Ten minutes later, Mac was wearing clothing that were entirely too big on her, but were a welcomed gift after spending the last few days wearing the same filthy clothing. Miguel had helped her change Harm's clothing and Carmen was now looking over the wound. "He needs a doctor."

Carmen nodded in agreement. "Si, but. . .eh, too far. . .and you hide. . .de malos. . .bad men." In disbelief Mac stared at the woman. It was no secret that they'd needed shelter and it was probably easy to deduce that they were in trouble, but the next thing that Carmen said rocked Mac to the core. "El no estaba supuesto de estar aqui con tigo. . .pero te ama mucho."

If her Spanish wasn't too rusty, the woman had told her that Harm was not the one that was supposed to be there with her. And that he loved her. "Carmen. . ."

"Caled is bad. . .He. . . steal mi. . .son. . .He kill him."

Mouth agape, Mac continued to stare at the woman. "How did you know about Caled?"

Carmen grinned sheepishly and shrugged. "I see. . ." She passed her hands over her eyes. "In dream."

"You have visions in your dreams?" Dear God, how was it that something metaphysical always seemed to come to their aid. "You dreamt of us?"

"Si. . .You come. . .eh, pregnant falso. . .He come husband." Her rich Paraguayan accent, sometimes made it difficult for Mac to understand the broken English. Still, the messages were clear. "Aldo, traime una Abuja de cocer y hilo negro. Tambien, alcol, el paqutico de antibioticos y unos trapos viejos." She motioned for the boy to bring her a variety of things that included a needle, thread, alcohol, antibiotic and rags. Turning back to Harm, she peered at the gash on his side and frowned. "Pablo, tienes unos alicates?" (Do you have pliers?)

Pablo nodded and immediately went to fetch them. "Tiene algo adentro de la herida?" (Does he have something in the wound?)

"Si." Reaching for the kerosene lighter, she shoved the pliers inside, heating the metal enough to help cut off any germs. "Move. . por favor." She urged the small group to move back. "I was. . .nurse."

Even so, Mac was cautiously watching the woman's moves. Third world countries had a tendency to know third world medicine. Not that it was their fault, but sometimes they tended to be a bit savage about the sick and their methods of healthcare. She winced audibly when Carmen shoved the pliers into the wound. Harm didn't make a sound, only the tension of his body was a testament to any pain he felt. It took only a few seconds before a half inch long piece of blood stained metal was pulled out and placed next to a crate which served as a night table. "Tiene una infection. . .infection."

"Coje, mama." Aldo returned, paling at the site of the blood running down Harm's flesh. He nearly fainted at the sight, but his brother, Pablo did his best to help the teenager outside.

Carmen took the alcohol, moonshine, home made, and used for a variety of things besides consumption. She poured the liquid over the wound, drowning out any infection that may have been produced. With the rags, she cleansed the wound and then took the needle and thread. Expertly, she sewed the wound, making an almost perfect suture of the area. Once done, she poured more moonshine over the wound and finished cleaning the area. Taking another rag, she placed it over the area and used duct tape to keep it secure. "I work hospital en Ciudad del Este por vente. . .eh, twenty years. . . last year I fired for take medicine to poor niños. . .I pay. Friend bring medicine to me. . .Antibioticos, para cortar la infection."

"Yes, he needs antibiotics. . .He needs a hospital."

"Si, hospital. . .You no stay in Paraguay. You hospital in America. . .We help."

"Mama!" Pablo yelled, exasperated at what he'd heard from his mother. "Como tu puedes ayudar a estos gringos? No podemos. Si el govierno se entera, estamos en mucho problema!" Angrily, he whipped at Mac, "If Mr. Caled finds we help. We die."

Almost as if on queue sounds of tires crunching along the gravel alerted the group to their new visitors. "Mama, Pablo! Son los hombres de Caled!" Aldo ran into the shack, yelling. Terrified he glanced among everyone in the room, his gaze resting on Harm. "Que vamos acer! Por favor mama, no dejen que me lleven!" He clutched to his mother, begging her not to let Caled's men take him as they had his older brother.

Thoughts of turning herself in were first in Mac's mind. This family shouldn't have to suffer because of her and Harm. "Tell them you found us here. . .Turn us in."

Carmen sighed deeply, thoughts of her eldest son murdered by Caled's men still haunted her. She vowed never to endanger anyone ever again. Still, these two needed her help and she was bound by an ethical code to help those in need. She couldn't very well feed them to the sharks. "Tapanse, escondete y no importa lo que pase, quedanse callados." She instructed and then added. "Hide. . .abajo, under." She pointed at the blankets and asked Miguel to help her cover the pair. "Quiet."

"Carmen, no. . ."

Rather than listen, Carmen tossed the blankets at her and pushed Mac under. "I say quiet. Gracias. . .Aldo, quedate aqui. . .Pablo, Miguel, afuera." (Aldo, stay here, Pablo and Miguel, outside.) She took a deep breath, stealing herself for another confrontation with Caled. She hated the man, wished him dead and even prayed to God that he would meet his untimely demise.

Beneath the blankets, Mac held onto Harm closing her eyes, hoping that they would not be discovered, nor that Carmen's family would suffer for them. They'd already been through enough, more than she'd signed on for when Webb came to her with his plan. She ran a hand over Harm and frowned, "I'm so, so, sorry. This is my fault. . .This is my fault."

Pablo and Miguel stood flanking their mother. They watched in silence as Caled stepped out of an SUV and walked towards them carrying a basket of what appeared to be groceries. "Buenas Noches." (Good Evening.)

Carmen glared at the man, unwilling and unable to play the hypocrite, even if it meant keeping them alive. "Que quieres?" (What do you want?)

Caled placed the basket at their feet and then stepped back. To Carmen and the boy's surprise, his guards didn't step off of the car, but remained seated inside, guns at the ready. "No se anoje. . .Vengo a pedirle perdon por tu hijo. . .Lamento lo que paso." (Don't be upset. I come to ask for forgiveness. I hate what happened.)

"Estas mentiendo." (You're lying) Defiantly she stood still, maintaining that stoic front that she'd grown into ever since her husband had died of pneumonia three years prior. "Dirme la verdad. Porque estan aqui?" (Tell me the truth. Why are you here?)

"Esta bien. . .Hay un matrimonio. Una mujer y un hombre Americanos, los estamos buscando." (There is a couple. An American man and woman, we are looking for them.)

"Por que?" (Why?)

"Eso no es de importancia." (That's not important.) Caled waved over one of his guards who stepped out of the vehicle shouldering a weapon and carrying a briefcase. "Pero esto si es importante." (But this is important.) He flicked the suitcase open revealing one hundred thousand dollars in US currency.

Involuntarily, Pablo twitched. The money would be useful, maybe even enough to get them out of their home and into something in Buenos Aires, Argentina, a city where his mother dreamt of living. Carmen's hand brushed his ever gently, stopping him from telling Caled what he knew. "Ellos estuvieron aqui. . .Nos robaron nuestro pick up." (They were here. They stole our truck.)

That statement clearly lit up Caled's face. He and his guards had been searching for Harm and Mac for hours without much success. They needed to be caught and quickly, before they had a chance to head into America with any Intel they may have received. Worst of all, there were no pictures of him, nothing that could be put on television for the American people and their allies to see. Now, there were two people who could describe him and allow for the American forces to create a likeness of his which would be plastered everywhere. "Para donde cojieron?" (Which way did they go?) He shut the suitcase and placed it next to his feet.

Pablo shrugged. "Para el oeste." (Towards the West.)

There was something that Pablo was not telling him, a lie of omission that he needed to clear up quickly. Without a second thought, Caled pulled out a 45mm and pointed it at Carmen. "Porque me parece que estas ocultando algo?" (Why do I feel like you're hiding something?)

"No esta ocultandote nada!" Carmen hissed, unphased by the gun which was pointed at her. "Era un hombre alto, con pelo oscuro. Y una mujer prenyada." (I am not hiding anything! It was a tall man with dark hair and a pregnant woman.)

_Pregnant?_ Pablo thought, giving his mother an odd expression. He'd seen Mac and nothing about her body signified a pregnancy. Nothing at all. He only hoped it wasn't one of his mother's so called 'visions.' The woman had repeatedly put them all in trouble because of those.

Satisfied, Caled lowered his weapon and reached down to grab the suitcase. "Buenas noches."

"Espera!" Pablo yelled, perturbed that the man was walking away without giving them compensation. "Y el dinero?"

Caled wasn't an entirely cruel individual. Sighing, he flicked open the case and pulled out a crisp twenty dollar bill. "Gracias."

Taking the money, Pablo turned to glare at his mother once again, voicing with his eyes what he couldn't with his mouth. She was willing to trade their lives for the lives of two strangers? Angered, he sauntered towards their home with Miguel in tow as Carmen headed, alone, towards the shack.

Under the blankets, Mac lay over Harm, sweating profusely as the minutes seemed to tick by like hours. The family had left them no more than ten minutes prior and it felt like a millennium had passed by. The periods that she'd held her breath had left her dizzy. She couldn't help but tense when the shack door opened and someone stepped in. Instead, she prayed that neither Caled nor his men would be curious enough to check what was under the blankets. The footsteps came closer and closer. _Oh God!_ She screamed in her head as the blankets were pulled off of them. "Ya se fueron." Popping an eye open, she glanced up at Carmen who was standing over them with a smile. "They go."

Carefully, Mac eased herself off of Harm and sat on the side of the cot. She took Carmen's hands in her own and gratefully bowed her head. "Gracias."

Using her index finger, Carmen tucked it under Mac's chin and raised her head up. "No fue nada. . .I glad to. . .help." She smiled and then turned to Harm. "He need hospital. . .I try take you there, si?"

Hospital, while the ideal place for Harm to be in would not shelter them from Caled's men. "Embassy. If we. . .Si vamos al hospital. . .nos escuentran. . .they'll find us there."

Frowning, Carmen turned away from them. "Embassy in Asuncion. . .Asuncion es muy lejo. Casi 300 kilometros . .Eh, tree handred kilometers."

"Damn, I guess a hospital will do for now. . .I appreciate everything, Carmen. . .Gracias por todo."

Carmen patted Mac's hand and smiled. "Everyting will be good. . .I go check on boys. . .You sleep. . hablamos luego." (We'll speak later.)

Once they were alone, Mac pushed her cot next to his and sat down. She reached over to the makeshift night table and adjusted the flame so that a cozy glow radiated inside the structure. Settling herself in for the night, she turned on her side, glancing at Harm's still figure. The back of her hand came to rest on his forehead, feeling that his fever had started to break. He was still warm but not burning up the way he had on the trip over. The shaking, which seemed to never stop, was starting to worry her a bit more.

It wasn't from the cold, the dry clothing and the blanket would have warmed him up by now, so would her body heat. No, the shaking was from something else. "God, please don't let it be nerve damage." If so, she was fairly certain that his military career was over. The thought was almost painful and difficult to fathom. What if the Navy had deemed him unfit for duty and she would never be able to see him strutting so handsomely in his summer whites and dress blues?

Sighing, she ran her hand over his face, the stubble prickling her palm. "I'm going to get you out of here. . .I promise you."

"Mac." Harm croaked out. Slowly he'd been coming out of unconsciousness, his fear for Mac's life the only constant that kept him in contact with the real world. "Mac?"

Immediately, she pressed her hand against his cheek as her other hand wrapped around his own. "I'm here, Harm. . .I'm here."

"Are you alright?" His voice was so weak, but he needed to know that she was safe. Last thing he remembered was the inclement weather and some sort of wooden structure that she was trying to get them to.

"I'm fine. . .How do you feel?"

"Like shit." He grunted, then opened his eyes, glancing around. Groaning he closed them again. It was definitely _not_ a hospital, the one place that he would welcome with open arms at the moment. "Not the hospital, huh?"

Sadly, she shook her head. "No. . .We're still in the Chaco. . . there's a family that's caring for us until we can get moving again."

"Great." He didn't like the idea of being cared for. Even less did he like the idea that someone knew that they were there. No matter how altruistic people were at first, he'd dealt with enough cases to know that, at a moment's notice, that kindness would be tossed aside if they were bribed or blackmailed the right away. "I feel. . .weak."

"You've lost a lot of blood. . .As soon as you're a little better, we need to head off again, find you a hospital."

"I think. . .our best bet. . .is to fly home." To start off with, he didn't really want to be at the hands of Paraguayan medicine. Also, they were being sought after and hospitals were usually the easiest places to be found. "Or go to the. . .Embassy. . ." Harm took a deep breath and immediately regretted it as pain shot up the side of his body. He held his breath, preventing himself from screaming out. The action made him shake more. It unnerved him that she hadn't answered, surely they weren't that far from the Embassy were they? Webb had made it seem like the distance was relatively short. "Mac?"

"Rest. . .You need to rest." She turned to the side and lowered herself onto the cot, then slid her body next to his. "Sleep, we'll talk again later." Mac placed a hand in his, threading her fingers through his own.


	11. Beginning Of The End

And we're moving along, it's a bit of a filler chapter but Mac gets some information that she may need to take to heart in the future. They'll be on the move in the next chapter and back to relative safety!! Wooo!!

Happy Thanksgiving to all that celebrate it and even if you don't I'll have a slice of turkey for you. Woo Hoo! ;)

Enjoy!  
Jackie

**Chapter 11 – Beginning Of The End**

**0545 Local  
****JAG Headquarters  
****Falls Church, Virginia**

Rear Admiral AJ Chegwidden sat behind his desk, his chair leaned back slightly as he drank his coffee. The office was deserted which afforded him the ability to make _real_ coffee, not the crap his staff members tended to drink. He had a feeling in his bones that today was a 'strong pot of coffee' kind of day. Of course, when you got a call at four am from the Deputy Director of the CIA asking for a meeting, that tended to get your wheels in motion relatively quickly.

The last conversation he had with Harrison Kershaw had been a few days prior when the man had contacted him about Harm's current status. _"On loan to the CIA? Why in the HELL wasn't I told about this?!" _AJ had yelled, exasperated that they'd tapped not one, but two of his senior attorneys, only to learn that Harm had requested the change. Losing both Harm and Mac had been a major blow to the office which was already understaffed. However, it was the sounding of permanence that ticked him off more than anything. It wasn't exactly un-Rabb-like to change designators. He hoped that this was just a ploy to stay by Mac's side, something that, while he found noble, was probably the dumbest mistake the man would ever make.

He turned the chair towards the window and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Great, just what I need, a headache before sunrise." AJ sighed and took another gulp of coffee. The sad fact in the matter was that he couldn't quite stay upset at Harm for too long. He knew the real reason why he would have followed and only hoped that Harm knew too. "Rabb, what would you do to keep her? That's the real question." He'd seen the two skirt around each other for a good seven years, painfully oblivious to something that everyone else saw with clarity. Work aside, there really wasn't a fathomable reason why they hadn't just gotten together in the past. They had to know that he'd move Heaven and Earth to allow the relationship to work. "Didn't they?" He'd accommodated the Roberts and even sat back and said nothing when it was clear that Mac and Harm were getting closer than working partners should be.

"Hard at work?" Kershaw's voice broke through the reverie.

Angrily, AJ whipped around, cursing as he reached for a napkin to blot the coffee which he'd spilled over himself. "Don't they teach you how to knock at Langley?"

Slightly amused, Harrison stepped into the office and slid into one of the guest chairs. "We're spooks, knocking isn't really part of the curriculum."

"Make yourself at home." Sarcastically, AJ waved at the now-occupied chair and scowled at the not-quite-welcomed guest. "If you want coffee you're going to have to head into the kitchen to get it. My yeoman won't arrive for another two hours."

Kershaw shook his head. "I've had my fill on my way over, thank you." He settled into the chair and glanced around at the decorations in the room. Very male, definitely military, he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I suppose that you know why I am here. . .At least, you do know _who_ I am here about."

It was definitely clear that the CIA community just couldn't help but speak in riddles and rhymes. AJ sighed, "Out with it."

"Rabb and MacKenzie are missing." He put it out as if it were a passing fancy and nothing more, as if it had no weight or merit. As if they were nothing.

The words seemed to suspend themselves in midair before their weight caused them to crash with a loud bang. A bang that came from AJ Chegwidden slamming his coffee mug against the desk. "What do you mean they 'are missing.' That better not be some sort of spy speak for 'they're dead.'" He gritted his teeth and took deep breaths, thoughts of climbing over the desk and beating Kershaw to a pulp dancing in his head. "Tell me or I swear, the next person you'll be hearing from is the President of the United States and I don't think he'll be pleased to hear that the CIA had some half cocked plan that got two decorated Naval officers killed."

Kershaw remained still, with that impassive look on his face that was likely issued with his CIA badge. "Are you done Admiral?" He took the briefcase which he'd brought in and placed it on top of AJ's desk. From inside he pulled out information pertaining to Raul Garcia and Yourlsef Caled. "According to agent Webb they were last seen in the Chaco Boreal going after Agent Victor Galindez, who I believe worked in this office."

"Gunny?! You have the Gunny involved in this, too!?" He put on his glasses and leafed through the pages, glancing at images of Harm and Mac's deal with Garcia. "When were these taken?"

"A couple of days ago. Agent Webb was using a telephoto lens to get the pictures in case anyone should try to prove Garcia's innocence." He slid across the desk a picture taken from a UAV of some sort of explosion. "We know that the Commander and the Colonel were able to destroy the Stingers. It's not quite what we wanted, but as long as they aren't in the wrong hands. . .Long story short, Galindez was taken. Rabb and MacKenzie felt it pertinent to rescue him. . .And rescue him they did. . .He was found at a local hospital bleeding to death. . .He confirmed that Rabb and MacKenzie were alive when he last saw them. . .Apparently they escaped Caled's compound, destroyed the Stingers but have been missing ever since."

"They better not be dead. . .Or I swear to God there isn't a rock you could hide under that. . ."

"They were on loan to the CIA, AJ." Kershaw interrupted, then stood up and removed the pictures from the desk. "As tragic as it would be to lose two good officers, it's all in the roll of the dice. They knew what they were getting themselves into."

"I don't suppose you're searching for them?"

"No and before you threaten me again, you know, damned well, that 'leave no man behind' doesn't pertain to us. It's how we've survived."

"Leave no man behind is how the Military survives."

Kershaw snorted, he was never a man to really care a great deal about the military. If anything, they had a habit of always being in the way. "Yes, look how great that turned out. How many SEALs have been lost compared to our 83 stars?"

AJ could only glare at the man un-wanting to believe his audacity. "I'm not going to even comment on that." He said, barely containing his rage. One thing was for certain, this was the last time that the CIA would use JAG Ops as their employment pool. "I'll find them."

Snorting, the CIA Director stood up and placed the briefcase on the chair. "By yourself?"

"If I have to, yes. . .Come hell or high water, my people will be found."

"Dead or alive?"

"Dead or alive." Though he didn't want to consider the possibility, if Harm and Mac had been killed he would bring back their bodies for a proper burial. A burial for two of the military's finest. "I want you to get me in touch with Victor Galindez."

"He's debriefing."

Of course, that was CIA talk for 'he's available, but you won't be able to speak with him, ever.' "Well, have him contact me when he's finished debriefing." If they wouldn't actively produce Victor Galindez, Chegwidden would just have to find other methods of finding a way to speak to the man.

"I'll do that." Kershaw took his briefcase and headed towards the door, only to stop and turn around. "For what it's worth, I am sorry that they got caught up in this." In all honesty, Kershaw was not as insensitive as people believed him to be. He'd just lived through several of the CIA's sticky situations to worry too much about two military officers who'd _willingly_ walked into his mission.

**0654 Local**  
**Somewhere in the Chaco Boreal**

Something was watching them, Mac could feel that particularly odd feeling when eyes were locked onto a particular object. That object, at the moment, was her. It wasn't an overly unpleasant feeling, but she really didn't like being watched. Slowly, she turned towards the source only to find Maria seated on a wooden chair. "Buenos dias."

"Buenos dias." Mac responded in kind and then sat up on the cot. She stretched out some of the kinks and yawned.

"Hmmm." Maria settled back into the wooden chair, thoughtfully tapping her forefinger against her chin. "I see fake baby. . .I. . .see. . .things" She waved her hand in the air and then pointed to the area where Mac had stashed the pregnancy suit. Maria had always had a 'gift' but never really had anyone to use the gift on. Once or twice, it had saved her patients when she worked as a nurse, past that, it only served to warn her of certain events. The gift was odd and mostly selective. She hadn't seen much about the strangers until the morning when she'd woken up with a dream of the pair that didn't make much sense. "You, he, love much. . .but, how you say? Problem?"

Had she not been drawn by her own metaphysical moments, Mac would have thought the woman a hack. The pregnancy suit that she'd been wearing wasn't exactly hidden and the fact that she and Harm were running away from Caled's man definitely signified a problem. However, something in Maria's eyes was different from those so called psychics that one would find at State Fairs. "I. . .He and I."

"Problem. . .More come."

"Can you really see the future?. . .Futuro?"

"Si. . .futuro. . .Su futuro esta muy complicado. . . Pero, el amor prospera sobre todo. . .Si tu lo amas con todo que tu eres y el te ama con todo que el es, podran sobrevivier." (Yes, future. Your future is complicated. But, love conquers all. If you love him with all that you are and he loves you with all that he is, you'll survive.)

The message was difficult to decipher but one thing was rather clear. "Love conquers all?" She understood that, but never really gave it much validity. If love really did conquer all, why wasn't she at home, barefoot and pregnant and carrying Harm's child instead of in the middle of some Paraguayan jungle?

"Si. . .Yes. . ." Maria's face suddenly fell, her head dropping to look at the ground and towards where the pregnancy suit was. Though she didn't understand Mac's reason for wearing it, there was something, a sign that came from it that she felt the need to chair despite it being such a sad message. "You no have baby."

Mac took the pregnancy suit and held it up. "No, it's fake. . .we used it to stop the bad people. We hoped they would take mercy on a pregnant woman." And a whole lot of good that did. She might have not been the one getting electrocuted, but each time she heard Harm scream, his pain was felt in her soul.

"No" Shaking her head, the woman pointed at Mac's flat belly. "I talk about _you_ baby. . ._you_ real baby with _he_." She pointed at Harm and then waved a hand between them. "You need hurry."

"Hurry?" The language barrier was beginning to be a pain. Though she and Maria were communicating on some level, it wasn't nearly enough. Mac felt helpless and confused and this transferred onto her emotions which were already on high. "What do you mean, hurry? What are you talking about?" She nearly yelled only to be settled down by Maria's comforting hand.

"Calma. . .Ten calma." (Calm, you need to be calm.) Sympathetically, Maria placed a hand over Mac's and gave her a halfhearted look. "You have. . .eh, how you say? Umm. . . ill. . . Enferma? Tienes una enfermedad que no te deja tener hijos. . .Pueden tener pero si el tiempo sigue pasando, sus chances van a dismenuir." (You have an illness that will not let you have children. You may be able to, but your chances grow smaller as time passes."

There was something hidden in Maria's voice that Mac's linguistics abilities couldn't quite pick on this time. She'd said the statement so fast that there weren't even pieces for her to grab onto and decipher. "I don't understand. . .I have a short time? For what exactly?"

"Baby with he. . .You. . .you sick." She pointed at Mac's stomach, frowning as she stated, "You sick here. . .You pain but you no say. . .Pain is no baby."

"Oh God." She had been having pain, a slight one that radiated over her the area of her right ovary. It was small, insignificant and with Advil would disappear. It always occurred around her menstrual cycle and never felt that it was cause for worry. Didn't all women have pain and discomfort during that time of the month? A time or two she had felt a sense of worry which quickly evaporated once the pain went away. "You said with 'he.'" She said, pointing at Harm who was asleep curled up in fetal position. She bit her lower lip, afraid to ask something else that would put a rip in whatever had happened days ago in the hotel. "Do you see a future. . .eh, futuro con el y yo?"

Maria couldn't answer, her visions had finished with Mac. "No se." She said sadly and then stood up and helped Mac get up off of the cot. "Need to see him." She moved the cot out of the way and kneeled down next to Harm. With the back of her hand she felt his face which was quite warm, the antibiotics weren't working as well as she'd had hoped. They would need a hospital with better medication and specifically an IV with medicines. She saw him shake and opted to raise his clothing up to see the angry marks on his body. From inside of her jeans pocket she took out an un-descript tube and unscrewed the cap. Using her finger, she applied a clear goo to the abrasions then brought his shirt down to cover the wounds. "Voy a traer desayuno y despued, vamos a viajar." (I'm going to bring breakfast and then we're going on a trip)

"I'm sorry? I don't understand. . ." Mac rubbed her eyes hoping to get the last bits of haziness from sleep out of her system. She wasn't sure what Maria was suggesting, though it sounded familiar.

"You, he, I. . .go to Asuncion." The decision had come in a dream where she'd envisioned Harm and a very pregnant Mac walking through the streets of Ciudad del Este. They had stepped out of a tavern and headed towards a waiting taxicab. After sitting inside a burly man with dark hair and a 45mm pointed the weapon through the open door. Neither of them had a chance to flinch and a second later, the pair lay in a pool of blood. Maria wasn't sure if it was an omen or indigestion. Either way, she wasn't going to chance it. Not to mention, if she knew enough about Yourlsef Caled it was that he seldom traveled to Asuncion where a slue of US government agencies held offices. "La Embajada esta ahi."

"The Embassy." That would take them one step closer to home. Once they were in US soil, Harm could get the treatment he needed. "Yes. . .Si."

**0920 Local  
****Bethesda Naval Hospital  
****Bethesda, Maryland**

It was safe to say that AJ Chegwidden had _learned_ to become a patient man. His time with the SEALs had taught him that patient persistence was the way to get things done. This time, patience was chucked out the window. It was the CIA which gave him a reason to do so. While Kershaw had insisted that Gunny needed to debrief, he'd decided that the debriefing was something he needed to be part of.

Stepping out of the elevator on the third floor, he nearly collided with Harrison Kershaw. "Admiral, I was just about to call you."

Somehow he doubted that. "I'm sure. . .Is debriefing done?"

"For now. . .The medication practically has Galindez in a vegetative state." Kershaw took a deep breath and then settled out of his holier than thou act. It was almost as if the animal had become human. "AJ, he doesn't know where Rabb and MacKenzie are. If he did I would have told you."

AJ folded his arms across his chest, his fingers balancing his cover. "Is this CIA empathy? Or did he tell you something that _you_ think is top secret and I'm not to know?"

"He _really_ doesn't know. . .Look, you are free to question Galindez just be careful _how_ you do it." He sighed and shook his head in disbelief. Taking a Marine in as an agent had seemed like such a wonderful idea. Marines were killing machines, highly trained and probably the most psychologically capable to do _any_ job. With Gunny, he found out, a bit late, that the man had too much compassion. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but he needed someone more like Clayton Webb, cold and calculating. "I'm not sure that in his mental state he'll be able to take much more stress. . .Good luck." He patted AJ on the shoulder and then stepped into an elevator cart which had stopped on that floor. "Incidentally, if he tells you what shook him up, I would like to have that information." He held the 'open' button preventing the car from moving floors. "There's something he isn't telling us."

"Something as in what, exactly?" His gut told him that it had something to do with Harm and Mac themselves and not the mission. He'd considered that working so closely together would be the catalyst that pushed them into a relationship that the pair was dancing around. However, Harm and Mac were consummate professionals to a fault and he doubted that they would put the mission in danger just for love. But then, there had been so many others, him included, who would have given up everything for love. "Kershaw?" The doors closed before he got an answer.

With a huff, he headed down the hallway stopping at the nurses' station in order to attain Gunny's room number. When he stepped inside, the always strong and proud Marine he had known was laying in the cot, fragile and injured. There were lacerations on his face which ran into the bushy beard he was sporting. His hair was a bit longer than what a military man should wear. Quietly, AJ closed the door behind him.

"Admiral, sir." Turning, he found Gunny trying to sit up straighter. He groaned and then halted his movements until the pain subsided. Besides the lacerations, they'd found him to have a broken rib or two. "I was. . ."

AJ waved him off and settled into the guest chair next to the bed. "Take a breath, Victor."

Though he did, the anxiousness of passing information was too much to keep him calm. "I think you know this already, but Commander Rabb and Colonel MacKenzie were captured. . ."

"I know." AJ interrupted. He took a deep breath and moved forward, placing his elbows on his knees. "Are they alive?"

Gunny shook his head and turned away. Damnit, how he wished he could answer that with some certainty. "When I left them they were. . .But, I. . .I wouldn't be surprised if one or both of them were tortured by Caled." He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, hoping to erase that image of the torture shack and the place he would have been had Harm and Mac not rescued him. "I was going to get tortured. . .I guess since I ran away and they stayed behind. . .The Commander said he wouldn't leave the Colonel. . .So he asked me to escape and contact you."

"What happened after you escaped?"

He had run away from Caled's men, fled into the woods only to have them follow. They had shot him, a bullet going through his upper back which had, thankfully, not perforated anything of major importance. Somehow he'd managed to steal the AK-47 from one of the men and killed them both before setting out and escaping. Not far from Caled's compound he had found a truck and its owner. The AK had been one hell of a motivational device and soon he found himself in Ciudad del Este. The rest was a blur until he awoke in Bethesda. "I can't remember anything past the hospital at Ciudad del Este." He remained silent for a moment, a notion had been nagging at him which wasn't sensitive, but possibly had to be handled with kid gloves. "Harm and Mac. . .I think. . .I think they're _together_, sir."

Again, it was a possibility that AJ always anticipated when they headed off into investigations together. Not that a man and a woman couldn't have a platonic relationship, but with as much chemistry as the pair had it was a miracle that a fire hadn't erupted in JAG ops. "Awww, hell." He sunk back into his chair and brought his fingers up to the bridge of his nose. "Damnit."

"Sir. . .It was a long time coming." He defended, knowing just how inevitable it was for them to figure it out.

And AJ knew it too, but there was so much more on the line right now. "I know that. . .I do. . .And I'm not upset about the relationship, but you have to admit that the timing sucks." The timing didn't just stink, but there was an added bonus that aided the enemy. Something that men like Caled just couldn't resist. "It's just another weapon that Caled will use against them." If they were still alive.


	12. Prelude To Tragedy

**Hey gang!! Hope you guys had a good turkey day! We had a full house for about a week. Had fun, went to bed late, got up early, etc. My best friend got me into a newish show called 'Dexter' that's on Showtime. Dark, witty, very cool, I am soooo enjoying it. Anyhoo. . . This chapter was originaly caled "Treason" but that was very generic. As to why this is a "Prelude To Tragedy" is actually quite involved. It's a Life/Death thing and a relationship thing. OOoOooooOOooh, bet you wanna know more huh? Yeah, well, this chapter is all yer getting. ;)**

**Enjoy!  
Jackie**

**Chapter 12 – Prelude To Tragedy**

**One Day Later  
****1045 Local  
****Somewhere in the Chaco Boreal  
****Paraguay**

Nauseous, Mac swallowed down the bile that rose to her throat when the pick up truck trundled as it rolled over rough terrain. She held Harm's prone form tightly, hoping that the violent jerks wouldn't worsen his injuries. It was a gamble, heading away from relative safety, traveling across Paraguay to Acunsion. It was a gamble that would hopefully pay off. Safety was a concern if they returned to Ciudad del Este. While Webb seemed to have trusted Edward Hardy, Mac and Harm had another feeling about the man. Then there was Yourlsef Caled, which was likely still searching for them. It was a cinch that he had men watching the hospitals.

Harm's shaking had subsided somewhat. They would still occur, but for short intervals and infrequently. If he was in pain due to the trip, Mac couldn't tell. Since they had left he'd only awoken once needing to drink water. She'd held his head up while he sipped from a canteen and also fed him two more antibiotic pills. They weren't doing much, if his raging fever was an indication, but even a little help was welcomed.

Her stomach lurched again and she thanked God for the mattress below them. She and Harm had been placed in the back of Pablo's pick up truck which was enclosed with a camper top. On the bed, covering the metal surface, was a mattress. It was a vehicle that the men of the family would use when they needed to venture far from home in order to find work.

Glancing out of the window, Mac could see the gray clouds in the horizon which seemed to be following them. She smiled at a memory of her grandmother which had always helped her through stormy weather. Ever since she was a child, she hated storms – the thunder and lightening had always scared her. She recalled hiding under her bed and her grandmother coaxing her out with milk and cookies. Her grandmother, Adeleh, always had a way to make things simpler, despite the turmoil that went on in the MacKenzie household. For some reason, the days that her maternal grandmother would stay over, everything became normal, warm, nice. At twelve, when her grandmother died, Mac felt the loss strongly but failed to see the sign of bad things to come.

Sighing, she brushed away a tear and then looked down at Harm. His life, his childhood was certainly easier than her own. And yet, it wasn't. Like her, he had his own ghosts to face. While Mac would pray that God would take her father, Harm was praying for the return of his own. It was odd how things worked out. How fate could bring together two people with strange similarities. "I'm sorry for this. . .for all of this."

Apologizing wasn't the weakness that she'd claimed once. It was weak not to ask for forgiveness and pretend that things just didn't matter. One thing was for sure, this was the absolute last time that she or Harm would do anything for Clayton Webb and the CIA.

Sinking into the mattress, she stretched out next to Harm. One arm was draped over him, the other traced the marks on his beautiful face. Marks that would heal but saddened her anyway. How could anyone be so cold? How could Caled hurt someone the way he did Harm, the way he certainly would have hurt her?

At some point during the journey, she'd nodded off, awakening only when the truck came to a full stop. The back of the camper opened and Miguel slipped inside with them. "Paramos para echar gasolina." (We stopped to put gas.)

Mac nodded. "Gracias."

"De nada." The young man glanced between her and Harm and smiled. "Muy pronto todo se resuerve. . .Voy a buscar aqua para ustedes." (Soon everything will be fine. I am going to get water for you two.) With that, he hopped off the back and disappeared into a small, run down, convenience store looking establishment. Oddly, Pablo was no where to be found. "Pablo?" Miguel didn't have to search, the shop was so tiny that just being rooted in one place, he could see the whole place. For that matter, the clerk was no where to be found either.

He couldn't see the pool of blood behind a decrepit wooded counter. He couldn't hear the conversation happening in a small, hidden room at the back. "Que vas hacer, Pablo?" (What will you do, Pablo?)

Pablo gulped as a 9mm was pushed to the side of his head. He was shoved up against a dingy wall, the man behind him holding him steady with one hand. From the moment he stepped inside, he'd been taken unwillingly. "Señor, que quieres que haga?" (Sir, what do you want me to do?)

The man behind him wasn't much to look at. Years of running around a Paraguayan jungle had removed any of the rugged good looks that he'd sported in his youth. He was sent to serve a message and kill anything that got in his way. He was sent by Caled. "No los dejen en la puerta de la embajada. . .Llevaos a Caled. (Don't leave them at the Embassy's doorstep. Take them to Caled.)

It wasn't news that Pablo didn't like the Americans in his pick up truck. He had a sinking feeling that they'd cause him and his family nothing but trouble. But, that didn't mean that he wanted the pair dead. Quite the contrary, anyone who had suffered due to Caled had a right to live a thousand times over. Still, if he didn't do what Caled's hired gun had wanted, his family would suffer the consequences. When the man tightened his hold, Pablo saw it fit to, finally, give an answer. "Si. . .Si lo hare. . .si." (Yes, I'll do it. Yes.) He had made a deal with the Devil.

**1322 Local  
United States Embassy  
Asuncion, Paraguay**

"AJ, What are you doing here?" A familiar voice greeted Admiral AJ Chegwidden once he stepped foot inside the Embassy. The person in question glared at him in annoyance. "Is all of JAG going to come out? Let me guess, Roberts next?"

AJ never really liked Clayton Webb though he was never sure why. It wasn't the failed missions, or the times that his staff managed to get wrapped up in one of his schemes. No, it ran deeper than that. While he didn't hate the spy, a certain ire rose that was too hard to deny. "Webb, if it wasn't because it looks like your nose is already broken. . ._again_. . .I'd break it. . ._again_."

Webb took a few steps back and raised his arms in surrender. "Hey, look. . .I only wanted MacKenzie on this trip and, suddenly, it's like a JAG class reunion." He let out a deep breath and then motioned for the Admiral to follow. "I know why you're here and it's not really going to help the situation much."

"Oh, so _now_ it's a situation? Last time I spoke with Kershaw, he was busy trying to make sure it disappeared."

"We have a code to live by. You, of all people, should know that. . .Or did that SEAL trident come out of a Cracker Jack box?" He cringed when AJ grabbed his arm, spun around and pinned him to the nearest wall. "Still adversarial, AJ?"

Ah, yes, the back talk. That could be one good reason why he didn't like Webb all that much. "Webb, two of my officers are out there, missing, possibly dead and your office is trying to cover it up. _Two OFFICERS_ not _AGENTS_, Webb. . ."

Webb took a deep breath, trying to keep himself calm, the pain on his arm was excruciating. "They knew. . .what they were doing. . .was . . .dangerous." He said between breaths and let out a deep sigh when AJ let him loose. Groaning, he rubbed his arm, hoping to get the circulation working again. "Look, we think we've found where Caled took them. . .The problem is that we don't know where they are _now._"

"Was there a development?"

"Do the words Nagasaki and Hiroshima mean anything to you?" At AJ's shocked expression, he placed a hand on the man's shoulder and escorted him towards the office he was permanently/temporarily occupying. Webb shut the door behind them and then flicked on a small, cellular phone looking box. "This helps to stop anyone from snitching in on the conversation. . .Have a seat." He motioned to one of the guest chairs and then walked towards a small bar on the corner. "Anything to drink?"

"Bourbon." Although he hadn't noticed it before, now AJ clearly saw Webb's unease. His hands were trembling, his face was sullen. "Thanks." He drank down the drink in one shot and then placed the glass on Webb's desk. "I take the Stingers blew up?"

"A few farmers out in the Chaco claimed to have seen a prop plane, with two people in it, flying low and then BOOM." He took his own bourbon and chucked it down in one shot. "I don't know of anyone else who could have been out there. Certainly, none of our own was."

"Where's that plane?" When he didn't receive an answer, AJ slid towards the edge of his seat. "Was it shot down?"

Webb sighed deeply. "We don't know. . ."

"And you can't send someone out to look for it." AJ shook his head. "You wouldn't even know where to start. . .What about using satellites?"

"We're doing that now, but it's a lot of land, heavy foliage. . .If something happened to the plane and they needed to land. . .They could be on foot."

"At least they are together." Or so he hoped.

**1525 Local  
Asuncion, Paraguay**

Pablo nodded towards a group of men that were standing on the curb near the US Embassy. It had been a decision to let Harm and Mac off some ways off in order to not attract attention and keep the US forces from attacking Caled's men if it came to that.

Miguel turned to Pablo, shock registered on his facial features. "Pablo, eso fueron los hombres de Yourlsef?" (Were those Caled's men?)

"Hermano, no te puedo mentir. . .Yo ise un trato con Yourlsef. Fue la unica manera de protejer nuestra familia." He swung the truck around an empty lot a good two blocks away from the Embassy. (Brother, I can't lie to you. I made a deal with Yourlsef. It was the only way to keep our family safe.) Miguel made to turn around and warn Harm and Mac when his brother's hand grabbed him. "No. . .Si valoras tu vida. . .No lo hagas." (No. If you value your life don't do it.)

Harm was awake now, using Mac to lean against as the vehicle ground to a halt. He peered out the side windows of the camper noticing with great dismay that they had rolled into a trap. "Mac. . .Look."

Glancing out, she could clearly see Caled and some of his men walking towards them. It wasn't too surprising that they had come to Asuncion, it was, however, extremely surprising to find that Pablo had rolled them into a trap. Through the window that connected the cab to the truck bed, Mac contacted the men. "You set us up. . .Why have you done this?"

"I need to protect mi familia." Pablo said, his head cast down in shame. Something that seemed like such a good idea several hours ago now made him feel like a monster. "I love mi mama."

"Help us." Harm pleaded. "Please. . .Help us."

Miguel glanced back at Harm, clearly seeing the anguished look on his face. It proved to be his undoing and the one thing that would cost him his life. "Perdon hermano." (I'm sorry brother.) Reaching across he shoved the truck into gear and then planted his foot on top of Pablo's. The truck sped out of control, tossing the occupants of the bed to and fro. The brothers fought over wheel, ultimately sending the vehicle in a path towards the Embassy.

One of Caled's men threw a grenade which landed close enough to the vehicle to send it onto its side. Miraculously, neither Harm nor Mac were unconscious. The mattress in the back had softened the blow. Miguel, however, had been thrown out the windshield and was on the ground in a heap. He glanced up to see Caled walking towards them, pistol in hand. "No. . .Pro favor. . .No!" Were his final words, as Yourlsef put a bullet between his eyes.

Pablo had seen the interaction, mouth dropping in horror as he witnessed his brother's death before his very eyes.

With her foot, Mac managed to break open the back latch. She pulled it open and helped Harm crawl out of the back. "Shit!" Bullets rained down on them as they creeped towards the side of the truck. From their vantage point, Mac could see the Embassy and the Marines standing outside, returning fire. "Harm. . .It's not that far away."

Something dropped behind them and as Mac made to attack, she saw Pablo bleeding profusely from a wound at his arm. He was holding a rifle in hand. "I. . .fool. . .I. . .sorry."

"We need to get to the Embassy, Pablo."

He nodded in agreement and patted the weapon. "You run. . I shoot."

It was hard to forgive someone who betrayed you and yet, that is exactly what she did. An explosion sounded near by, rattling the overturned vehicle and signaling that it was time for them to get going. "Let's get going, Harm."

"Too tired, Mac. . .Leave me."

"Damnit, we went through this. . .NO. We didn't get this far for me to leave you. . .God Damnit, sailor, get your ass up and get moving, that is an order!. . . Oh, I forgot, Sailors are only good for a ride. ..If you were a Marine, you wouldn't be sitting there, you wouldn't be. . "

"Alright Mac! I get your point. . ." With Mac's help he came to his feet, swaying slightly until his balance seemed to return. Before they began to move, he pulled her closer, catching her attention. "Will you always be there?"

Damn the man, he always had a problem with timing. "Yes. . . .Now, lets save all of the Hallmark moments for another time and get the hell out of here." She headed towards the Embassy, using trees, signs and any other obstacle to stop the onslaught of bullets until she could reach shouting distance. They took refuge behind a large, metal garbage bin. "Open the gate! We're Americans."

Marine Corps Staff Sergeant Tony Siler stood behind his contingent of troops. "Corporal Suarez, you and your men stand fast." He ordered, using the binoculars to take a good look at Harm and Mac. They seemed to be tourists. And there was one keen thing about the types of tourists that were in trouble within Paraguay – they were usually drug smugglers or gun runners. Neither the type that he would prefer to give sanctuary to. "We need to identify them."

Mac wasn't sure what to expect. She'd been on the other end of the US Embassy before and knew they weren't likely to just open up and step out to help. Still, she didn't expect them to ignore her altogether. "Damnit, open up! We're Officers!! Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie and Commander Harmon Rabb!. . .We're AMERICANS!"

But the men within the gates of the Embassy had a job to do and that job did not include the protection of those outside the gates. "We do not take orders from persons outside that gate, ma'am."

Harm held onto Mac as bullets passed over them once again. "We have to make a run for it." He suggested, panting hard. "We have to or they are going to kill us out here."

"You can't run and I can't carry you." Victory was so damned close. This part of their nightmare was less than two hundred feet away from ending. So close and yet, so far away.

They say that there are Angels who are put on Earth and walk among us. That day, their angel came in the form of one Admiral AJ Chegwidden who had arrived at the Embassy no less than twenty minutes prior. "What the hell is going on?" He glanced out of an upstairs window, spotting the Marines and the group of men whom they were fighting. "Are we under attack. . .Oh God." Huddled against a tree he spotted two familiar figures. "Harm? Mac? They're alive. . .Damnit! They're." Then he connected the dots, noting that no one was helping them. "Someone open that damned gate and help them!" He pointed towards their area and then grabbed the first person he saw. "Get them help. . .They are my missing officers."

Below, Mac shielded Harm from another onslaught of bullets. "Damnit! We didn't make it this far to get shot!" She peaked from the side of their hiding place spotting some sort of mobilization at the steps of the Embassy. "Help us!!" To her surprise, that is exactly what they received, help. A contingency of Marines assembled in riot gear, while the others returned fire. They stepped out of the gate, rushing through the fire fight until they reached Harm and Mac. "He's hurt. . .You need to be careful with him." She pleaded and was then quickly separated.

Two Marines flanked Mac as they rushed towards the Embassy. "One o'clock." They shot in that direction while keeping Mac down low to avoid getting hit. "Behind the van, there! In coming!"

Mac was shoved to the ground, pinned down as the weight of a body came over her. An explosion sounded behind them. "No. . .Harm!" She turned to look towards his way, but the Marines got her moving again. It was then, in the flash of an eye, that she noticed Caled. Their eyes locked for a moment and she swore, even from a distance, that she could see the hatred burning in his eyes. In that flash, she removed the Corporal's side arm and took fire emptying the gun towards Caled's direction.

As they shoved her through the gates, she stumbled and turned quickly, sitting on the pavement. Her eyes searched for Caled and found him lying on the asphalt grasping the center of his chest which was now adorned with a bloody stain.

Outside of the gates, a small group was carrying Harm. One of the Marines tossed a smoke bomb into the street. It brought enough cover to get all of the men in without incident. Once inside, Mac couldn't hold up to the exhaustion anymore. She felt her legs grow week and her body just fell to the floor.

**1900 Local  
****US Embassy  
****Asuncion, Paraguay**

AJ Chegwidden stood just behind his Chief of Staff as she stared down to the Paraguayan streets below. He should have been furious and part of him still was, but Mac seemed so fragile at the moment that his anger dissipated. The last time he'd seen her so vulnerable was when she and Harm spent an evening in the hospital after Coster's attack. The marks on her face were a testament of the things she had gone through, but it was her expression that scared him. Things must have been bad, really bad for Mac's eyes to seem so cold and devoid of emotion. "Colone. . ." No, that was too formal, "Mac. . .I just spoke to the doctor, Harm's fever broke and they have the infection under control."

"Thank you, sir." She wiped away a solitary tear, not caring at the moment if her commanding officer saw her cry. "When will we be heading home?"

"I am working on a transport for all of us. . .It's the doctor's call though. Harm has to be well enough to travel." AJ prayed that was the case. He didn't want his officers spending any more time on this land than necessary. "Did the CIA debrief you?"

Mac nodded. "First thing they did when I woke up. . .I guess Webb must have said something, they went relatively easy on me." She sighed deeply, trying to erase the images from her mind, the sounds from her ears. It was no use, the debriefing had brought everything up. Everything was still raw. "I hope I told them enough that they won't need to talk to Harm. . .He doesn't need to rehash anything."

Slowly crossing the room, AJ came to sit on a sofa in front of a coffee table. The room was a library, huge and magnificent. And almost always empty. "How are you?"

"Fucked up. And I won't ask you to excuse my language, sir." She sighed deeply and continued to stare out of the window. Part of her wondered if Caled was still alive. "I thought I'd been through a lot in the Marines. I can honestly say that nothing prepared me to hear my partner being tortured just a hundred feet away." She could still hear his screams, smell the burnt skin. Mac knew the nightmares would haunt her for life. Her hands rubbed over her arms in hopes to feel warmth again. Everything had been bottled up during their escape, but now that they were safe, it was easier to remember and let it all sink in. "I didn't think we'd make it out alive."

In all of his years as a commanding officer, AJ had never seen a person so emotionally tattered until he became the JAG. First it was Harriet with news of Bud's injury and now Mac. "How did you escape?" He asked, in hopes of keeping her talking so that she'd let those emotions out with someone who could be trusted.

"The CIA bombed Yourlsef's compound. It was easy to get away. We found a biplane and took off in it. It was, almost, a miracle when we found the semi carrying the Stingers. We were shot at and crashed."

"How did you blow up the stingers?"

Mac didn't have to ask how he knew that, it was obvious Chegwidden had a pow wow with Webb. "Grenade. We found some in the barn where the plane was."

"Mac, you've been through a lot. Sit down, relax."

Tears burned her eyes, which she closed tightly in hopes of stopping the tumultuous thoughts. "Oh God. . .Maria." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "There was a woman, Maria. She helped us out, she patched Harm up. . . One of her sons, Pablo, he gave us up. They are both dead now. . ." The street had been cleaned up, Pablo and Miguel's bodies taken by an ambulance. But the police was still there, trying to make heads or tails of the occurrence. "And it's our fault."

"Mac." AJ stood up and quickly closed the distance between himself and Mac. "In war, things happen."

"But this wasn't a war. . .And we weren't supposed to be here." If it had been a war, then it may have been easier for her. She would have been in that mentality. This time, they were caught up in something more. Damnit, they weren't even supposed to come in contact with Caled to begin with. She tensed when she felt AJ's hand on her shoulder and then surrendered when he pulled her towards the sofa, but she didn't sit.

"Colonel, I don't want to make it an order." He pointed at the sofa and waited. Once Mac sat down, he went around the wooden table that sat in the center of the seating area. "What did the doctors say about you?" AJ headed to a small bar and poured her a tall glass of water.

"Just to put ointment on the scratches on my face. . .A couple are infected." She shrugged uncaring about her miniscule injuries. Her head hurt like hell, so did her entire body, but she wouldn't rest until she was able to talk to Harm again. "Thank you." She took the water and then reached into her pocket, pulling out two ibuprofen which were prescribed. She downed the pills and placed the glass on the side table next to her. They hadn't been out in the jungle _that_ long and yet her skin was suffering from the excursion. She had mosquito bites, dry skin and aches in her joints that had never been prominent before. Still, she'd welcomed more if it meant that Harm would really be alright. "He won't stop shaking."

"They shocked him, didn't they?"

Mac nodded. "Yeah. . . car batteries and steal wool. . .How could anyone do that to another human being!?" She yelled, her defenses so low that they crumbled. This time, she couldn't help the tears that fell. They were incontrollable. "The only reason why they didn't go after me was because Caled thought I was pregnant. . .And Harm, he kept begging them not to hurt me. . .Maybe if I'd taken that goddamned suit off he wouldn't have gotten the brunt of it."

"Mac, don't torture yourself over this. . .It's bad, I know it is, but you can't change things." He took a seat on the center table right in front of her. "You need to concentrate on the future. You're still an officer, and a lawyer, and I need you. The office needs you. Both of you." He chuckled slightly. "I never really noticed just how big a part you and Rabb are. . .JAG doesn't run right without you two around."

"I bet everyone is worried?"

"And then some. . .But I called, they know you're safe."

"Colonel?" Webb stood at the doorway, arms folded across his chest. It was evident that he'd been listening in to some of the conversation. "We need to go over your statement again. . .I've asked Kershaw to leave Rabb alone. . .He won't be questioned unless it's extremely necessary."

Mac nodded and took a deep breath. Good, at least something was going right. "Excuse me, sir." She stepped out of the library and followed Webb up the hall to the room that she'd left not too long ago.

AJ had suffered through different kinds of torture in his life. But he wasn't sure if he could handle what Harm and Mac had been through. He was sure that few people really could. They were the strongest people he knew. "God help them."


	13. Salt In Our Wounds

Okay people, grab the tissue, your TEDDY BEARS and phone a friend. We are now getting into the emotionaly angsty part of our story. I believe, it will last, roughly 3-4 chapters and we'll get some levity. Don't hate Harm or Mac for it, they are only pawns in my attempt to rule the world. . .Or so I've been brainwashed to believe. ;)

Jackie

**Chapter 13 – Salt In Our Wounds **

**Two Weeks Later  
0645 Local  
JAG Headquarters  
Falls Church, Virginia**

Stepping through the double glass doors and into ops felt almost surreal. It had been weeks since Mac last stood inside those hallowed walls yet it felt like a lifetime ago. In some ways it_ was_ another lifetime. May as well have happened to someone else because, at the moment, she felt like a stranger in her own body. Straightening her spine, Mac switched to Marine mode and headed towards her office. She stopped once, glancing at the name plate over Harm's door. "No." It was bad enough that she'd lost sleep trying not to think about what had happened to them. It would be even worse if she allowed it to consume her during work. There would be enough time to torture herself later, at some point.

Harm was still in Bethesda, struggling to deal with the nerve damage that had now become a somewhat permanent part of his existence. It angered and scared her, and while Harm and the doctors could voice their concerns, all she could do was be supportive. They hadn't talked much about anything. Between the testing and the surgery done at the insistence of the head doctor to check on Harm's wound, he hadn't been up for much of anything. She understood, of course, but was concerned about him and how his mind was wrapping around everything.

When Chegwidden had visited and practically ordered her to return to work, Mac was ecstatic. Though she wanted to spend as much time as possible by Harm's side, the undeniable need to get away was threatening to choke her – them. Mac knew that Harm needed some space which could be afforded if she spent some time at work.

Sighing, she pushed her door open, walked into her office, placing her briefcase on her desk. The office was immaculate, for once. She'd made sure to clean up before heading off on the mission with Webb. "What the?" Immaculate except for a small box laying in the center of her desk. Curiously, she sat in her chair and stared at the nondescript white box. Furling her brow, Mac inched in closer, examining and deciding if it was safe to take. While she'd shot Caled, thoughts of his resurrection were never far from her mind. Men like him usually didn't hesitate in finding someone else to carry the torch. Then again, this was JAG ops, one of the single most impossible places to penetrate. The building was guarded twenty four hours a day and probably as well as Fort Knox was. Hell, even now the guards would not let any of them in without their passes. Everyone who went in or out was scheduled to be there and if they weren't, the guards would watch that person closely, monitoring their whereabouts.

"Screw it." Throwing caution to the wind she reached for the box and pulled the top open. Inside, she found a piece of paper folded several times over and threaded through her Marine Corps ring. Without touching the paper she knew who it was from, there was only one place where her ring could be. "Webb." She slipped it on, admiring the way it looked on her slender fingers. The temptation to toss the note away without reading it was almost so strong. She wasn't sure what Webb wanted to tell her, but, at this point, not even an 'I'm sorry' could placate her.

'_Sarah. I doubt very much I am your favorite person at the moment. I don't like myself very much either. In any case, here's something that belongs to you that I promised to return once you were back in Falls Church. I'd really hoped to work this assignment with you but I guess everything happens for a reason. I am very sorry that you and Harm went through so much. Maybe you weren't the best for the job? Maybe I allowed my feelings for you to get in the way of my better judgment. Yes, feelings. I have feelings for you, ones that I realize you'll never return. Good luck, Sarah. Semper Fi.'_

Mac's teeth clenched as she read over the note twice more. "Feelings for me?" What kind of sick romantic gesture suggested that you drag the woman you have _feelings_ for out into the middle of the jungle? She wasn't an agent and though she was well trained no normal human being would put someone they cared for in danger. It was lunacy to think otherwise. "What an asshole." Mac wadded up the note and tossed it into the wastebasket along with the box that it came in. If this was any indication of how her day would be, then she'd have to brace herself. "Feelings for me?" She snorted. "Yeah, like that would ever work out?" She and Clay? The thought made her skin crawl. While Clay had a _few_ redeeming qualities, it just wasn't enough to even remotely consider anything past their friendship, or lack their of.

If you wanted to punch the person every time that you saw them, could they be considered your friend? "Probably not." She thought with a grin.

**1345 Local  
Bethesda Naval Hospital  
Bethesda, Maryland**

Concentrating on the plastic cup on the tray before him, Harm tried to reach for the object and nearly succeeded in taking it, until the shaking began again. "C'mon Harm." He tried to motivate himself, but it was no use. "Goddamnit!" With the back of his hand he slapped the cup away, its contents spilling to the floor as the doctor, Lieutenant Ryan Luna looked on. He wasn't surprised with the outburst, patients in therapy were allowed. And if the scuttlebutt was true, Commander Harmon Rabb Jr. was overdo. "Doctor Ellison said that the nerve damage _wasn't_ severe. Why can't I do this?"

Dr. Luna didn't want to be the bearer of bad news. "It wasn't severe enough to cause organ damage or paralysis, Commander, but the damage in conjunction with your other injuries did compound the situation. . .It's going to take time."

Time. He didn't want it to take time. His quals would come up eventually and unless he was fit for duty, he could kiss his gold wings goodbye. "Tell me, in all honesty, will I be able to fly again?"

The question had been evaded with great success, but as time went by and Harm became more able, it was becoming difficult to pacify the man. "We don't kno. . ."

"Don't tell me that you don't know!" Harm interrupted, his voice cracking with emotion. "Just give me the bottom line."

Apart from assisting with the therapy of patients that had experienced neurological damage, Dr. Luna was also a surgeon and could understand the lawyer's plight. If it had been him, Luna wouldn't be able to deal with the stress of knowing he could never operate again, that his tools for survival were now obsolete or damned close to it. "In all honesty, I wouldn't clear you to fly. . .The shaking has not improved."

"Oh God." Harm wasn't sure he could take having his wings stripped away for a second time. After all of the tricks and stunts that he'd pulled, after all of the mishaps, his wings would be pulled because of something he couldn't control. . .again. "What options do I have, if any?" His voice cracked and he swallowed down the lump at his throat.

Grabbing the file from a small table which sat just under the window, Dr. Luna went directly to the films from the scans. There were old ones which he compared with the ones taken earlier that day. "There are some neurological procedures that can be done to minimize the tremors, however they weren't designed for persons who have suffered electroshock. They're for persons with Parkinson's. . .We can try it, but the chances of causing more permanent damage is quite high."

"But, there's a chance?" There was always a chance. Someone always won the lottery, right?

Still, the chance was a bit too slim and it wasn't one that any doctor, in his right mind, would pursue. "It's not one I'd be willing to take and that's saying a lot. Not to toot my own horn, I am one of the best neurological surgeons on the East Coast."

"If you're so good, then why are you working for the Navy?" Harm spat, meaning for it to sound just like it came out - bitter and snarky. He didn't care whose feelings he hurt.

The man took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He could take the yelling, the temper tantrums, even the tossing of objects. What he couldn't take was the hits about his career. "That was rude, sir. . .And not that it should matter to you or anyone, but I am in the Navy because it's a job that matters. I am not out there making millions for myself and eventually coming to see my job as a meal ticket and nothing else. . .I became a doctor to help people. After the Gulf War I enlisted and haven't regretted it. I have nothing but the outmost confidence in my work. . .Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to make my rounds." He stuffed the paperwork and films back into the file and headed out of the room, almost crashing into Mac who was heading in. "Colonel."

"Lieutenant, how's. . .?" Raising a brow, she was surprised at the doctor's curt greeting. "That was odd." The man was always very nice with them, offering to explain things in layman's terms. He'd remained after hours and even made sure that a bed was placed in the room for her to stay over with Harm. "Hey sailor, Chegwidden has me on limited duty for the week. So, I got to come home early to visit you." She placed a kiss on his forehead and a gift wrapped box on his lap.. "I brought you a surprise."

"Mac, I am not in the mood." He sighed and turned away from her, glancing out of the window to the blue skies. Why was it that people never understood his need to fly? Damnit, it wasn't some hobby. Jet fuel was in his blood, passed down through generations. Damnit, even his little brother was a helo pilot. No one understood and the only person who did, he knew, would have his six chewed out for even considering stepping into a cockpit. "Why don't you just go home?" He'd been asking her, repeatedly, for the last week, to head back to her apartment. Harm gave her all of the usual reasons - he was fine, he didn't need a night nurse. It was cute at first, sweet, that she would stay with him. Now, it was rubbing him the wrong way. He wasn't handicapped no matter how bad the tremors were.

The tension in the room picked up quickly. Mac knew his mood was changing for the worst. His inability to even shower without assistance must have been hell on a self-sufficient man. Furthermore, the psychologist who would stop by once a day had explained that Harm's unwillingness to talk about the events would cause harsh psychological trauma. Though she'd been forewarned, Mac never thought she'd be in his direct line of fire. "I want to stay with you. You need someone around, Harm."

"Goddamnit, Mac! GO HOME. I don't need you." His chest heaved, the shaking stopped for a moment and then began again once he calmed himself.

This time, Mac knew better than to argue. By the spill on the floor and the cup resting under a chair, it was obvious that the therapy was not doing him good. Maybe he needed the time alone? That she could understand. "Fine. . .I'll come back tomorrow to visit. . .Can I get you something before I go?"

There were so many things he could have said and yet, the first thing out of his mouth was meant to hurt. "I could use a drink. . .What was your alcohol of choice? Vodka, right?" Harm stared at her, his blue eyes turning dark. For the briefest of moments, he looked like a stranger to her. No, not even that. A stranger could have been kinder.

Mac felt like she'd been slapped and calmed her urge to lash back. This wasn't Harm, not anymore. Sure, they've said mean things to each other in the past, but this was different, almost calculated. He was pushing her away. "Don't."

"Don't what?" He feigned innocence.

"Don't do that."

"What exactly don't you want me to do, Colonel?"

The tone of his voice made it painfully clear that he wouldn't be placated, that anything she said would be met with ire. "Don't try to make me hate you." She whispered, her voice a whisper.

"Then stop caring for me." He wasn't stupid and knew, damned well, that his request was impossible to grant. So he twisted the knife deeper, "Mac, I'm not the same man anymore. . . I was changed out there, so were you. . ." He didn't even seem to regret what he was saying, not even a little bit. "Everything that happened in Paraguay is. . . This will _never_ work between us. . .It's over."

"What?" A sucker punch would have been kinder.

"Mac, you know it's true. . .Attraction doesn't make for a good relationship. You and I just shouldn't be together."

Wordlessly, she stood there, rooted in place and wondering if this was all some sort of psychological nightmare. It couldn't be true, he couldn't be pushing her away again. Mac's mind took her to a place, a time in a hotel room where, in his arms, she'd found everything that she'd been searching for. Something told her that they'd made a mistake and now, it had come back to haunt her. "You promised me. . .You said that it wouldn't end there. . .How could you just try to end it? Harm, for the first time you and I were on the same page. . .If you give up on us now, Caled wins."

"Then he wins."

"What happened to the man that never broke promises?"

"He died somewhere in the Chaco Boreal."

Mac's mouth opened and closed several times, her mind whirling so rapidly that words failed her. She only had one thing left to say. One thing that would forever brand her soul. "But, I love you."

There was one specific time in Paraguay that she could have sworn he was going to reply in kind. The moment had been stolen away and, little by little, their relationship too had been thieved. Mac could never have expected for him to sit there, motionless and emotionless. She now felt like a fool again. How many times did she lay her heart on the line? How many times had he crushed it? She was hard pressed to demand an answer. Did he enjoy torturing her? Was this some sort of punishment for his own physical attacks at the hands of a terrorist? When he turned away, the answer was there. "_Stop _saying that." It _was_ over.

She tried to say something else, to leave with parting words but it was no use. If she attempted to speak, Mac knew that the tears would follow. The last thing that she wanted was for him to see her cry. She didn't say goodbye, merely turned and walked towards the door. Pausing once, Mac looked him over as a tear escaped and slid down her cheek. She felt the fool once again. _Bye._ For now, she'd leave him and hope that he came to his senses when things fell back into place. Again, she'd try to live with a broken heart. Wordlessly, she stepped out of the room and out of his life – for now.

Harm felt crushed, destroyed. Part of him wanted to stop her, to tell her that he needed her, but the maelstrom within couldn't allow him to be so vulnerable. He felt evil and yet compassionate. It was all for the best. Sighing, he glanced at the gift on his lap. It was curiosity and nothing else that motivated him to rip open the gift wrap and peer inside. What he found surprised him. The only item was a cuddly, fuzzy teddy bear dressed in a flight suit with the Navy logo on a patch over his heart. Attached was a note written in Mac's handwriting_. 'I know we still have a lot to talk about. Too much has happened in such a short time. You have to know that I want us to work. I want to be with you and I'll wait forever if I have to. So that you can see how serious I am, here's a little 'get well soon' present and a request that comes with it: take me flying again. Love, Sarah.' _He felt a tear slide down his cheek and didn't wipe it away. Harm knew damned well that if he lost her again it would be for good. That was something he was willing to take if it meant saving her from the animal he'd become. "I'm sorry, Sarah."


	14. Keep On Pretending

Late this summer I got into the "Love Metal", Finnish band called H.I.M. I am addicted to the music and the lyrics which are heart breaking and poetic. There's also a lot of relationship truth in the music. A lot of conversations in this story have been inspired by the lyrics, especially this chapter and a future chapter when Harm and Sturgis have a guys night out.

Enjoy! You may need a sheet or two of kleenex for this one. ;)

Jackie

**Chapter 14 – Keep On Pretending**

**2140 Local**

**JAG Headquarters**

**Falls Church, Virginia**

Delicately balancing a piece of honey chicken on her chopsticks, Mac watched with fascination as a bit of the sticky substance dripped off the meat and onto the Styrofoam plate on her desk. She then took a bite, savoring the delicacy as a prisoner on death row would his last meal. Real food had been missing from her diet since they'd returned back to civilization. Hospital food, while better than the old MREs she and Harm shared in the jungle, only went so far. Despite her adoration of hamburgers and fries, her stomach was longing for Chinese. Maybe it was the use of chopsticks that would keep her mind off of things.

She snorted and shook her head. Nothing could take her mind off of things. Not returning to work, not the radio and definitely not being chewed out by the SECNAV earlier that day for her involvement with the CIA. Especially not after the conversation she had with Doctor Luna directly after Harm had told her to leave. . .

. . .It was no secret that she'd been upset upon leaving Harm's hospital room. As she made to slip into the elevators, Doctor Luna stood by her, head buried in Harm's patient file. "Colonel? I thought you were with Commander Rabb?"

Mac had not managed to collect herself and it was clear that she'd been crying. The last thing she wanted was to face anyone, but perhaps Doctor Luna could give her some perspective. "He doesn't wish to see me." She'd said flatly and ignored the elevator as it chimed on their floor and then closed again. "Is there something wrong with him? Medical, I mean? Besides the tremors, is something _wrong_ with him?" Stress. Trauma. She didn't care what it was medically labeled, only hoped that that naming his problems would mean that there was a resolution.

Doctor Luna pressed his index finger to the 'call' button and ushered Mac into the elevator as it opened before them. "I'm on break at the moment. Come with me." He motioned to the open elevator and stepped aside as Mac walked in. The ride down was a silent one and she followed as Luna led Mac through to his office which was a floor below. "Take a seat." He closed the door and sat down behind a large desk with several stacks of patient files. "You have his medical power of attorney, so that allows me to speak to you about Commander Rabb's condition. . .This is privileged information usually reserved for family."

"I understand." Even though, on paper, she had more rights than even Harm's mother would, she still wasn't considered family. Mac sighed as hopes of ever being more than friends with him passed fleetingly through her mind. "What is going on?"

"His trauma is compounded by several things. Some are physical, most are emotional." Opening up Harm's file he paged through and stopped at a colorful picture of what seemed to be a brain MRI. "The tremors can stop, if he wants them to."

"Which he does."

"Yes, he does, but he's going the wrong way about therapy. Rather than concentrating on getting better he seems to be hung up on retaining his flight status which is something I won't clear him for now, nor ever if he doesn't improve to one hundred percent. I could lose my license to practice medicine if I am not certain."

Sometimes Mac wished she could grab Harm and shake some sense into him. She understood his love of flying but couldn't comprehend how a strong man could let anything dominate him as a plane could. "The Commander's wings were taken away several years ago when he had a ramp strike due to scarring in his eyes that prevented him from seeing well at night. It's a big part of who he is, but I do share your concern about it."

"My biggest concern is that he's shutting himself down. It's a common denominator with patients that have experienced trauma like he has. While it's not entirely detrimental, I see something truly worrisome in the Commander. He needs psychological counseling with a shrink that is cleared to discuss what happened to him." He was remaining evasive for a good reason, he knew that Harm had been involved with the CIA during the accident. He knew that Harm had been tortured and that was the extent of his knowledge. "The more time passes, the worse it will get and the bigger chance he has at it becoming permanent."

Mac shivered at the thought. "Are the tremors psychological at this point?"

"It is triggered to a rapid firing of his nerves. Basically, he needs to do the therapy to retrain the nerves to fire normally. The psychological aspect _might_ prevent his recovery. It's pretty touch and go at the moment." He stared at her for a moment, his head tilting to the side. "Don't hold this against him. Sometimes patients that experience torture need to relearn all of their social skills."

Biting her lower lip kept the tears from welling up again, but it did nothing for the pain in her heart. "Thank you Lieutenant. . .I'll get out of your hair now." Without haste, she made it out of the office and back to the relative safety of JAG ops. . .

She chewed her meal thoughtfully while considering her next move. Clayton Webb was at the forefront. As far as Mac saw it, he owed Harm and would have to be the person to make sure he got the help he needed. Physical therapy aside, Mac was fairly certain that the CIA had a headshrinker that dealt with CIA agents. She washed down the last piece of chicken with a diet soda and placedthe chopsticks down on the plate. "Ugh." Thinking about Webb was enough to give her a stomach ache, but he was a necessary evil, especially if she meant to keep Harm's service record as clean as possible. He didn't need another black mark.

'_I don't need you.'_ Harm's words from earlier tugged at her heart strings. It was difficult to consider a relationship when he was throwing in the towel. Everything that became grounded the night they slept together was now blown to bits. Thoughts and feelings were pulling her to and fro. Her heart felt as shattered as it did one night on a ferry boat in the land down under.

"Damnit, why does everything with us have to be complicated?" Sighing, Mac stared up at the ceiling to a God that rarely seemed to listen anymore. "Can't you give me a sign? Something! Anything! Can't you see that I can't figure this out on my own?"

Too overwhelmed to realize she was not alone, Mac hadn't realized there was a figure watching her every move. Her plea was enough to stir up a comment. "I've never known you to talk to yourself, Mac."

She moved so quickly, that a chopstick went flying, landing a few feet in front of her desk. "Shit, Sturgis!"

"Hello to you too." Grinning, Sturgis stepped into her office. "You ah, dropped something." He sheepishly said as he bent over to pick up the chopstick. He handed it to her and, without being asked, settled into one of her guest chairs. "Sorry I didn't stop by earlier, but it's been extremely crazy today."

"No worries, I'm not very good company at the moment."

The next question, he decided, would gauge what the reason for her mood was. "How's Harm?" Sturgis immediately noted the hard look on her face and the expression in her eyes that seemed to be full of pain. "Forget I asked."

Mac turned her head and chuckled without mirth. So much for hiding at the office. "It's not too promising." Without sugar coating, she relayed the information that Doctor Luna passed on to her and added her own take to the situation. "I think Harm has hit his breaking point." For that matter, she wasn't too far behind.

"What makes you say that?"

"He went through a lot, much more than should ever be required by any human being to endure."

"Harm's a tough guy, Mac. . .Losing his father at such an early age, I think, helps him adapt to. . ."

"Not this time." She interrupted and cast her eyes down in shame. "Harm came along to protect me and I think. . .I think he blames me for what happened to him. I _know_ he blames me."

"Mac, don't blame yourself.. It wasn't your fault." Sturgis tried to rationalize. He should have known better.

"Before I left, I told him the most. . .ridiculous, selfish.. ." Mac threaded her fingers and squeezed hard, then brought her forehead against her knuckles. He'd asked her not to go, hadn't he? "He told me not to leave and I basically told him that he was only interested in me when he couldn't have me."

"Ouch." Never let it be said that Harm was the only person with the foot in the mouth problem. "How'd he take it?"

She shrugged. "He just stood there and I left. . .Maybe if I'd waited?" Waited for what exactly? Either the man wanted her or he didn't and up to earlier that day, she was almost one hundred percent certain that he did. The way he vowed to protect her was heartwarming and bittersweet. In the back of her mind, she could still hear him screaming. "Damnit." Shaking, she reached for a tissue out of the box on top of her desk. Mac tried to hide the tears, but it was no use, she was due. Covering her face with her hands, she cried. Her sobs shaking her body when she tried to grasp for air.

Sturgis had only seen this side of Mac twice: once during the JAG-A-Thon when she and Harm were trying to repair their relationship and a second time when he'd grilled her into disclosing her love for her partner and best friend. She'd never cried, at least, not that he had seen. And she'd never been this raw and vulnerable, something that was starting to scare him. He thanked the Lord that it wasn't normal working hours and walked around the desk, then squatted in front of her. "Mac. . .Mac, it's gonna be alright." Sturgis pulled her hands away from her face and managed to look directly into her eyes. "It's gonna be alright."

"He was tortured, Sturgis." She spat out in anger for her burst of emotions. "I heard him. . .I can still hear him. It won't stop." Mac pressed her hands against her ears but it didn't stop the sounds.

Leaning forward, Sturgis brought Mac into a tight hug. She cried against his shoulder and he only moved away when the sobs seemed to have stopped. "You're exhausted. You need to rest." Reaching over, he took her briefcase and purse, placing them at the top of her desk. "C'mon, I'll drive you home and pick you up in the morning." He offered her a hand which she didn't take. Instead, Mac stared up at him with that deer-in-the-headlights look. Sturgis understood, she didn't want to be alone. "Do you still carry a sea bag in your car?"

Mac sniffled and nodded. "Always do."

"How about you crash at my place tonight? It's a one bedroom, but the sofa is a pull out and it's very comfy. . .And before you say 'no', I insist."

Part of her didn't want to take Sturgis up on the offer, but the rational side of her won over. "Alright. . .Give me a minute,I just need to finish the file I was working on." It wouldn't be in her best interest to be alone knowing she had the bad habit of over thinking everything. Having someone nearby would help and besides Harm and the Roberts, Sturgis was someone she trusted. He'd earned that trust nearly two years earlier when she'd sworn him to secrecy.

The truly disheartening fact in the whole matter was that she could no longer keep on pretending that she didn't love Harm. As if that was ever a real secret to anyone but Harm and Mac.

**0745 Local**

**Bethesda Naval Hospital**

**Bethesda, Maryland**

"I can shower by myself." Harm had been singing the same song since day one, but the nursing staff had other ideas. He half believed that they just wanted to see him naked, something that may have been cute at one point and now just served to piss him off. "I'm not an invalid!" Annoyed, he slapped away at the sponge and practically growled at the two young women who were tending to him. "Tell someone that I want to take a shower on my own." He held his sheets in a vice grip. "Tell. Someone. That. I. Want. To. Shower. On. My. Own!" Slowing down his speech, he made it seem as if he were speaking to someone who had a learning disability.

The two women stared at each other and then back at their patient. "Commander, the doctor has not cleared you to. . ." She paused when Mac stepped into the room. "Colonel, Ma'am."

"Petty officer. . .Could I have a moment with the Commander?" She smiled at the two women as they excused themselves and hurriedly walked out of the room. Her back was to Harm and she could feel the tension radiating off of him. He wasn't pleased. "When I turn around, I want you to just listen, nothing more. . .I'm not here to argue with you." For now, she would treat this like a business negotiation and with good reason. Turning around, her eyes directly sought his. They were blood shot and emotionless, much like her own. "You didn't sleep much either?"

"Kinda hard to when you keep having nightmares." Harm replied through gritted teeth. It's not that he didn't want her there, he just couldn't cope with the emotions she was making him feel. "Why are you here, Mac?"

"Because I care about you? Part of the reason I couldn't sleep was because I was tempted to call and see if you were alright."

"I'm fine. . .You can go." And there he went, pushing her away again. Mac had every right to call it a dance.

She knew that he wasn't fine, but wished not to argue with him considering the circumstances. "I know things aren't well, but that's a whole other issue. . .The gang's all here. They want to see you." Mac added and waited for the big bang. It was early in the morning when Chegwidden had phoned Sturgis, asking him to get a hold of her and to get down to Bethesda. Doctor Luna had spoken to AJ over the night and suggested the visit as a hope to boost morale. As a result, Bud, Harriet, Sturgis and AJ had all tagged along.

Harm was not pleased. "I don't want to see anyone." Rather, he didn't want them to see him, or what was left of him.

"I can't just ask them to leave, Harm."

"Sure you can, you outrank most of the people in the office. Just, order them to get the hell out of here!"

"She doesn't outrank me, Commander." Chegwidden said, as he stepped in first, followed by Sturgis, Harriet and then Bud. He made a mental note of the way Harm had instantly hidden his arms under the sheets and sank down into the bed as if he were hiding something. "We thought you could use a little company."

A little? As far as Harm was concerned, all of JAG was in his room. "I'm not really up for company. I would really like it if you all just left." Couldn't people see that he wanted to be _alone_ in his misery?

"We just got here, sir." Harriet said as she slid a large fruit basket onto the side table. "I thought this would be better than balloons and flowers."

"Or teddy bears?" Harm said and then glanced towards Mac who didn't meet his gaze. He couldn't tell her that he loved the bear and that he'd even named it. Nor that it lay somewhere underneath his sheets. "Thank you, Harriet. . .Thank you guys for coming, but I am really wrecked. I need some rest."

Even at his age, Bud had a boyish charisma about him that was both heartwarming and endearing. He was also a well taught lawyer with the ability to cut someone down to shreds on the stand. Losing his leg one year earlier only served to mature him and see things in a different light. Some of it was good, the other, no so much. Yet, he'd never forgotten that silly little phrase 'if life hands you lemons, make lemonade.' It was his own trauma that made him understand what Harm was going through more than anyone else. "Actually, sir. . . I would like to speak with you privately."

It was Bud's charm that Harm couldn't say 'no' to. "Alright, Bud, just make it snappy."

Mac was the last to step out and the moment she did, Bud turned to Harm with a surreal determination. "I can tell you aren't handling this as well as you would like."

"That's an understatement." He snorted.

"You told me once to pay attention to everything around me. . .I just wanted to pass that same piece of advice to you." Cryptic and yet, often not saying too much was the easiest way to get through. "If you need any help during rehab, let me know."

Amazed, Harm looked on as Bud stepped outside. It often surprised him that Bud was the same man that came to JAG so many years ago. The two men often seemed worlds apart. "Mac? I thought you left." He noticed that she entered the room shyly, cautiously.

"I just. . .I guess I am a glutton for punishment." Mac folded her arms across her chest and stood fearfully defiant. "Can we talk?"

The woman had the absolute worst timing. "Mac, I can't. . .Not now, maybe not ever."

She didn't care if he wanted to table this discussion, there was something that Mac needed to hear from him no matter how it hurt. A reason to validate the same feeling within herself. "Do you blame me for what happened to us?"

"Us? I think more things happened to me than to you." Harm spat back in a cold tone, watching her physically recoil as if his words administered physical pain. "I asked you not to go and you did anyway. You left after dropping a bombshell on me. Do I blame you? Yes. . . I blame myself too, for being in. . .Never mind, I am too tired for this."

Mac wiped a stubborn tear away. "Thank you for your honesty." At least now she knew that most of the blame was hers to shoulder. As she made to step out of the room, she whipped around and glared at him, there was still more to say. "You can keep on pretending that you suddenly don't care about me, but I know differently. . .My foot isn't out the door this time, Harm. I am willing to wait _as long as it takes_. You just need to let me know if our heaven is worth the waiting."

Harm knew that she wasn't going to wait for his answer, not at that given moment. So why was it that it hurt to see her go? Grabbing a pillow, he pressed it over his face. Love was like a flame that couldn't be tamed, though he'd tried to blow out the embers so many times. This thing between him and Mac was no longer a dance, it had become a game. One that it seemed like he would never win.


	15. The Heart Of The Matter

Hey gang!! I've been neglecting you, I know, I know. But I've been  
inssssssssssaaaaaaaaanely busy. For that matter so has V. It was a joint  
effort. LOL!! The next few weeks is going to be touch and go. I haven't  
had much time to add more to the story, work's getting in the way. Anyhoo,  
here's chappie 15 and 16 will follow as soon as possible.

Hang tight, this story is not going to just disappear.

Enjoy!

J.  
PS: Happy Holidays!!

**Chapter 15 – The Heart Of The Matter**

Two Weeks Later  
1245 Local  
CIA Headquarters  
Langley, Virginia

The last two weeks had been an uphill battle. Between physical therapy and a major argument with Mac, he was losing hope at ever being normal again.

As she'd promised, her foot wasn't out of the door and she had been waiting though he'd never told her what she should wait for. In fact, she still made daily visits and often just sat by working on cases while he became addicted to prime time TV. After a few hours, she would return to her home, but repeat the cycle the next day. On the weekends, Mac would arrive with contraband - coffee and jelly doughnuts (his favorite) and a book which she would read in its entirety. She never spent the night.

There had been practically zero interaction between them until she'd commented on his lack of exercising a simple technique that Doctor Luna had demanded Harm perform daily in hopes of getting his motor skills functioning properly. "Mac, I'll do them when I am good and ready to."

Mac had wanted to grab Harm and shake him until all rational thought returned. This new version of him was more infuriating, pig headed and just plain lazy. "If you want to get better and get behind the stick of a Tomcat, you'd better start doing what your doctor says." In retrospect, she probably shouldn't have minded him like a child, but that was exactly the way he was acting.

"Mac, this is none of your business, alright. You just feel so damned guilty that you can't let it go." He'd hit the nail on the head. Well, partially at least. And it wasn't that Harm didn't want Mac around, he was just afraid of what he'd lose if he'd become a failure in her eyes.

"I do feel guilty." She confessed. "But, I am not here because of it."

"I don't need your pity."

"I don't pity you. . .I pity the people in this hospital that have been trying harder than hell to fix you and you just don't seem to give a shit about it." She'd witnessed the hurtful slew of names that Harm had called Doctor Luna just one day prior. The fact that the doctor was still willing to treat Harm was commendable. Others would have run away. "You need to get better so that you can get out of here and see that CIA psychologist."

Harm chuckled mirthlessly. "I am not going to some damned headshrinker. . .And for that matter, I think you need to see one too."

"I don't doubt that, but I am a little preoccupied between work and worrying about you." And the lack of sleep. She'd been sleeping no more than a few hours a night and it was starting to show. Coffee was no longer covering up the exhaustion. Mac rubbed her forehead, hoping to stop a headache which she knew was coming.

"Mac, go home, call Webb, maybe he's free tonight?"

Webb? What in the hell was he on about? In a flash, her head shot up, her eyes, confused and uncertain found jealousy in his own. "Webb? I don't think so."

"He likes you." Yes, that was the ticket, pawn her off on another man. Keep her away no matter how much your heart breaks. "I am sure he wouldn't mind taking you out to dinner."

Mac wasn't the fool that he was hoping she'd be. However, she could never have guessed that he would try such a cowardly act rather than face her directly. "You've said and done some slimy things, but this. . . Pawn me off on another man only to act like a spoiled little brat like you did with Mic and I?" When he didn't answer, she stood up and came directly to his side. "Do you like to see me suffer?"

No, he didn't, and part of him felt a deep remorse for not letting her be happy with Mic while he was miserable with Renee. "The moment I screw up, you're going to stop waiting and run to someone else. . .I'm just protecting myself and giving you an easy out." The wind didn't even have time to reach her sails before he was off again. "Besides, with all of the lies between us, what's the point of a relationship?"

"What lies?" She was clearly offended, more so, embarrassed that he would accuse her of such a thing. "When the hell did I lie to you?"

"Oh, I don't know, Mac. How about Chris? You never even mentioned that you were married. . ."

Mac's mouth opened a closed a few times. "How dare you bring that up! You wouldn't know the first thing that went on with my relationship with Chris. The night I needed you, you were too busy canoodling up with Bobbi Latham!"

"What about Mic?. . .I asked you once, point blank, if you loved him and you said 'yes.' Clearly if you did love the man, you'd have been married." _And I'd have been miserable_, he mentally added.

"If I was lying to anyone it was to Mic, not _you_. . .I _did_ love him, very much so. . .And not that it's any of your business, the reason we aren't married is because he knew that I wouldn't ever love him like I did you."

"So you're blaming me for that faux pas?"

"Hell yes, I'm blaming you! If you hadn't kissed me senseless on the Admiral's porch I may have, very well, been Mrs. Sarah Brumby."

At the use of the Australian's last name, Harm burst out laughing. "You were looking for an _out_ and I was it."

"And you were looking for an _in_ when I was unavailable. _When my foot was out the door._" She spat out and then began gathering the files around her. Tears stung her eyes, the emotion threatened to kill her. She choked on a sob and through sheer will managed to gather all of her things without making a fool of herself.

Harm felt like a dirty louse. Not only had he thrown her past lovers in her face again, but this time, he'd managed to make her cry. Helplessly, he sat by, watching as she took all of her belongings. In a single moment, when it seemed like she was about to leave him, Harm relented, or, at least, tried to. "Mac. . .I'm sor. ."

"Don't." It was sheer determination that kept her moving. Next, she picked up her jacket and slipped it on. She took her belongings and with a muttered 'goodbye' stepped out of the room.

That night Harm considered calling her, as he did every other night for a week. The night that he did, she was busy working with Sturgis. When he tried the next morning, she was headed down to Norfolk. So he gave up but took her advice about getting with the program. Shaping up led him to Langley. . .

"So far so good." Harm said as he stepped inside of the building without incident. The tremors had lessened, but not to the satisfaction of the pilot aching to get back into the pilot seat. Even less to the lover who had resigned to the fact that he'd lost the woman he loved. Harm kept his hands shoved into the pockets of the slacks that he wore. He wondered if this was what Parkinson's patients felt, self conscious at having a sort of abnormality.

With a sigh, he turned and glanced up at The Wall and all of the stars for the fallen agents. He'd often wondered which one belonged to Daniel Webb, Clay's father. Did Clay even know?

"Harm." Turning sharply, he found the man of his query heading his way. It was surprising to find Webb back at headquarters, considering that he seemed to be stationed in Paraguay permanently. But by the agent's warm smile it was obvious that something had changed. "How are you?" He only hoped that Mac hadn't taken him seriously about dating the agent.

Cautiously, Harm took Clay's hand, shaking it briskly before burying it back into his pockets. Thank God for civilian attire, had he been in uniform, the whole pocket thing would be a no no. "Alright. . .Getting there." He stiffened as the agent pinned a visitor pass onto the lapel of his suit jacket. Why was Webb there anyway? As far as he knew the CIA had arranged for him to see a psychologist, nothing more. "Why are you here Webb?"

"Follow me." He nodded towards a corridor to the right and set off with Harm in tow. Webb swiped his security card at a check point and waited for Harm to be searched before setting off again. Once they were out of earshot, he stopped and turned towards Harm. "Thank you." He said without preamble or much emotion behind it. Yes, he did seem grateful, but annoyed at the same time and he had a right to be. The Paraguay mission was _his_ baby that someone else had stolen right from under his nose. Still, he was grateful, even more so now after debriefing Mac only to realize that Harm had been tortured so savagely. That just as well could have been him.

"For what?" If it was for the mission, Harm was thoroughly confused. Not only did they blow up the stingers, but Caled had been killed. There would be no chance of beating a confession out of the man. No chance of finding out what dirty secrets his cell was considering for future attacks against Americans. There was nothing to be thankful for. If he was thanking him for sending Mac his way, Harm was truly going to be sick.

Clay leaned against a wall and sighed. "If you hadn't bulled your way into the case, I'd have been the one on that table. . . I realize that makes me sound like a coward but,. . . ."

"It doesn't. . .Trust me, no one would want to go through what we went through. . ."

"Well then." He motioned to the door across from them. "Dr. Charlie Morgan, psychologist extraordinaire."

Harm didn't like shrinks. Then again, did anyone? The poking and prodding. The personal questions and evasive answers. To him, it was almost like giving a deposition to a skilled lawyer. He'd been forced to see a few during his Naval career. Back then, he really didn't have a problem. This time, he wasn't so sure. But as much as the CIA and JAG requested that he see someone, part of him wanted to do it anyway. He just wanted the nightmares to go away and for his life to be normal again. "I hate shrinks."

"She's good, Harm, and since she's from the agency, you can spill your beans about anything."

A woman? He was supposed to speak to a woman? "She?" That was hardly fair, was it? Most of his problems involved women and now he had to speak to one? Maybe he should have rethought the whole therapy thing.

Clay shot off an annoyed glance and kicked himself off the wall. "Don't go sexist on me, Rabb. Charlie is the best you'll ever find. . . Besides, we're paying for it and any mention of the therapy will be blocked from any of your records."

That was, perhaps, the only plus to the whole arrangement. There would be no details in his file about his visit to the head shrinker. Sometimes, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. "Thanks, Clay." It took a bit of mental coaxing to knock on the door and then step inside once asked to. Psychologists always had a way of creeping him out. Or maybe, that was just his subconscious talking. "Oh, I forgot to ask. How's Mac?"

Clay furled his brow, truly perplexed by the question. "How the hell would I know how she is? I returned her Marine Corps ring a couple of weeks ago and she hasn't even bothered to say thanks." With that, he headed down the wall mumbling something about Harm's head getting whacked a time too many. He would never know how relieved Harm was or how hopeful he suddenly became. It wasn't too late.

Dr. Charlie Morgan's office wasn't quite what he'd expected when he pushed the door open and stepped inside. In his mind's eye he saw dark colors - scary colors. Something that would make him feel claustrophobic. Not Charlie Morgan's office. It was decorated with warm, neutral colors and had a feel of a day spa with several water fountains in areas of the office. There was soft, soothing, instrumental music playing on a small radio on a shelf to the side.

Of course, there was a couch, as well as two comfy looking arm chairs, one with an ottoman before it. And then there was Charlie who sat behind a mahogany desk wearing a doctor's smock which covered her expensive looking clothing. She was pretty, he realized when she stood and made her way to him. A red head with green eyes and a beautiful smile. "Dr. Charlie Morgan." She extended her hand and shook his, her handshake strong and confident. Her ID badge indicated that her first name was actually Charlene.

"Harmon Rabb." Had it been another time, another place, he'd used a smile of his own on her. He'd be smitten. Not this time. He was now broken with such an unmendable feeling. For all of the beauty in the world, this woman wasn't who he wanted either. But, that was a whole different issue. First thing's first.

Dr. Morgan pointed to the armchair and then to the sofa. "Either or, whatever makes you more comfortable."

Harm chose the armchair not realizing that a simple action was already part of the scrutiny. The armchair was situated across from the chair that the doctor would use. It had a wooden coffee table between them. Without realizing, he was putting distance between himself and Morgan. "Thanks." He settled into the leather chair, smiling slightly as it practically molded to him. It was as comfortable as he'd first thought.

"Before we start, I always ask. . .Do you have any questions?

Millions. He had millions, but none of them were really pertinent to much of anything. So, he asked the first thing that came to his mind when he was forced to see a shrink. "How much am I allowed to disclose?" Hey, he wasn't working for Santa Claus. The CIA had been known for handing their employees certain repercussions if they spoke about classified information.

Morgan wasn't surprised. It was a frequent query. Her clients didn't have anything to worry about. The sessions were kept more confidential than confessions to a priest.

"I am a psychologist for the CIA, so pretty much anything and everything. . .I guarantee I've heard it before." And seen it. Before becoming a top notch Psychologist, she'd worked for DCPD. It was the horror and the blood that caused her to return to school and do something good for humanity. "CIA agents go through a lot. . .many things that the public will never know."

"I am _not_ a CIA agent."

"No, but as a pilot you _are_ well trained to handle certain. . .stresses."

Stresses? What Caled did to him went far and beyond the label of 'stress.' "You mean torture."

The tone of his voice made it obvious to Morgan that Harm's pain ran deeper than most. It was a story she would probe for and hopefully, rid him of whatever was psychologically hurting him. "Torture is a harsh word. . .During these sessions I would like for you to refer to it as 'stress.'"

Stress? He had no problem using the word 'torture' even if it did invoke memories that he wasn't too keen on holding to. To Harm, using the word gave it all a definitive description without getting into the details that he was hoping to run from. "Fine. . .I took on plenty of _stress_ at the hands of a terrorist. . .as a result, I am not sure if I could ever fly a jet for the Navy. . .And I may have lost the one woman I have ever really. . ." He stopped a moment, hesitated for a second too long. ". . .cared for."

Ah, and there it was, the part of the puzzle that she knew he was hiding. There's always something, a victim that crawled under an agent's skin. A relative who was caught in the line of fire. With men, it was almost always a woman. "Why did you hesitate?"

"I didn't hesitate." The first roadblock and an item the good doctor knew must be shelved until a later time.

Morgan took notes on it, circling the point so that she would not forget to come back to it. "Any other questions?" She took his silence as an answer and proceeded. "Very well. . .Let's officially begin. . .I do know a few things about you. At least, whatever is in your service record. What's in your CIA files is a mystery to me and will remain that way until we start to move along in therapy. The only thing I _do_ know is that you went through a harrowing experience. However, the details have not been revealed to me. . .I prefer to work with as little working knowledge as possible, it prevents me from prematurely forming an opinion. . .That being said, I'm going to ask you the same question I ask all of my clients: Why are you here?"

Harm snorted and shook his head. "My commanding officer ordered me to come." It was true, part of his requirement in returning to the Navy was an appointment with a shrink.

"I am sure that's what _you_ want to believe, but that's not entirely true is it?"

No. It wasn't. Sighing deeply, Harm gave into the feeling of helplessness. He surrendered to the system and hoped he'd come out of it intact and back to normal. "That 'stress' you were talking about? I received a lifetime worth of it in a mission for the CIA."

"Tell me about it."

"I can't." He wasn't ready, probably would never be to open up to the gritty details. Saying you were tortured and filling someone in on the details were two different things. As much as he could acknowledge what had happened to him, he didn't want to relive it in any way shape or form.

Morgan, of course, had seen his behavior. With some coaxing it was easy to get a person to open up. She found that more direct approaches helped them free that demon up the quickest. "You're safe here, Harmon."

"Harm, everyone calls me Harm."

Good, one less hurdle. The man was either starting to become comfortable or was really in an emotional turmoil. "Harm. . .You're safe here. . .Tell me as much as you can and if it starts to get too weird, we'll stop. . .Can you do that for me?"

"Fine." With baited breath he took her through the movie in his head. The capture, the details of his torture and the escape. He didn't mention Mac by name only used the term 'us' when he signified there was more than one of them. "The tremors have lessened. . .But I doubt much that it will be to the satisfaction of the Navy. . .I'll never be able to fly again."

"How important is flying to you?"

He raised a brow and glared at Morgan almost as if the question were a sin. "How important is psychiatry to you? What if someone took that away by force?"

"You do that a lot, don't you?" She smiled at him, trying to call him out on a little tidbit that she'd picked up on.

"Do what?"

Morgan's smile grew wider. "Answer a question with a question? Try to evade giving me answers?" She didn't receive an answer, she knew she wouldn't. Many people would often not realize what they'd done. "You do that to keep people at arms length. . .Has anyone ever gotten close?"

_Mac._ Though, for all of their closeness, there were parts of him she never got close to. "I. . .ah. . .I, never mind." Damnit, he didn't need to think about her now. Before he touched that subject, he needed to stop the nightmares and get back to normal. "I don't want to talk about that."

"We have to, it's part of your problem."

Problem? The way she said it made him feel defective. "What 'problem(')?" He asked with ire in his voice.

"Harm, have you ever wondered why it is that you are so tortured? And I don't mean physically either. Emotionally, spiritually, you are tortured, withered."

"Look, Doc. . .I."

"Why don't you ever let anyone get close?"

"Doc. . ."

"Why don't you ever let anyone get close, Harmon?" She used a rougher tone which almost reminded him of the times he'd grilled a poor witness on the stand. "Why?"

"I am AFRAID!" There it was, out in the open and ready to be picked apart. Harm didn't notice the tears sliding down his cheeks until he tasted them. "Damnit." Angrily, he shot out of the chair and headed to the nearest window which looked out into the courtyard. With his fingertips, he brushed away the stray droplets and then sniffled away the water in his nose. "Damnit."

"What are you afraid of?" He could hear Morgan's voice behind him. She hadn't stood up, merely allowed him to have his space. Harm was grateful for that.

"Oh, man." He felt the stinging in his eyes this time and decided to remain with his back to her. 'Men don't cry.' It was the motto that Striker had grilled into his brain when he was in Vietnam. He took a shaky breath and swallowed down the lump at his throat. "Everyone who has been close to me is gone or have threatened to leave. . .I'm scared to let them get too close and have to go through the pain when they disappear."

Morgan frowned. It was a common psychological problem between many of her clients, the need to push people away to keep them from getting hurt. With Harm, though, the situation was different, reversed almost – he kept people away so that he would not get hurt. Some would call him a coward, she would call him human. "You never know unless you take a chance."

"I know. . .And I want to, believe me, I do. . .But, I always blow it." He'd taken a chance during that trip. Taken what he really wanted and promised something he was willing to give. Something that he still wanted to give. Did so much change in him that he lost the courage he'd built up during Paraguay. "Why do we hurt the people we. ..care for?"

"Because we know how to push their buttons. We know where to hurt them. . .In a way, it's like a boundary that we put up, to let others know that it's as far as we can be pushed."

He sighed heavily and turned around with a sly smile. "I have plenty of walls and boundaries. Just when I think I am ready to let them fall. . .something always gets between us."

"Us? As in you and the wall. .. or?" A woman. She knew this was about a woman, Morgan could see it in his eyes.

"Me and Mac. . .She's an officer who's been patterned with me for some time . .She went on that 'stressful' mission with me."

"Did she receive any of that stress?"

"No, thank God." Harm breathed a sigh of relief. "There were other stresses for her, psychological ones. I am sure that they are bothering her, but Mac's like I am. . .we put these walls up. . .I guess it's easy to do that with the lives we've lead."

"Tell me more."

"Well, Mac's an alcoholic. She haven't had a drink in years, thankfully. She's strong like that."

"And it's something you like about her."

Harm settled back into the chair. "Yeah, it's something I like about her." He grinned impishly, thinking about some of the other more 'private' things he liked about her. "She's a Lieutenant Colonel in the Marine Corps. Strong, efficient and sexy at the same time. It drives me crazy that she's that well put together and at the same time it turns me. . .Ah, never mind."

"Turns you on?" Morgan questioned with a smile. This man was a real piece of work. "You can say it you know?. . .Have you and Mac ever been intimate?"

The grin went away. His eyes, which were shinny in aquamarine darkened. The memory was bittersweet. "Yes. During this mission, our walls were down. . .It was the sweetest and most awesome experience of my life. . .I'd die to have her in my arms again."

"Was the stress of the mission too much for the relationship to survive?"

Harm shook his head. "The stress was what kept us alive. I was injured and she got me out. . .She loves me so much she wouldn't leave me out there to die."

"Then why aren't you with her now?"

"Because I am a moron. . .I have so much anger and rage and fear inside that I pushed her away." He remained quiet and pensive for a moment until he slowly started to realize all that he'd practically thrown away. "I didn't want to continue remembering the torture. She reminded me of it. . .I blamed her for me being in that situation, and I shouldn't because I went willingly. I needed to be there and I thank God, even with all that I went through, that I was there. If not. . .God, if not, she'd be dead or worse. . .I would have gone through it again too. . .All of it, as long as Mac was alright."

"Do you love her?"

Ah, the $10,000 question. The one he couldn't bring himself to answer. "I don't know anymore. . .I care about her, but I can't label it 'love.'" And until he could, there was no reason to make any steps, tentative or otherwise, towards Mac. He couldn't lead her on. "She hates me now anyway."

"One thing at a time, Harm. . .There are a lot of things out of your control at the moment. That is why you feel so vulnerable and hurt. . .A lawyer, a pilot, a Naval officer, a lover. All of those hats that you've worn, they all come with a degree of control. Since you seemingly don't have any of those things right now, you feel broken."

"What should I do?"

Ah, the kicker, the one thing that no client ever got right in the first try. "Accept it. . .Accept that things are out of your control and just, let go."

Letting go. There was that term again, biting him in the ass. "That term has come up a lot in my life."

"Maybe it's a sign?" She said with a smile.

Perhaps the good doctor was right on that point. He nodded in agreement. "So what do I do about following it?"

"Trust and believe."

"In what?"

Morgan leaned forward as if she were whispering a secret to him. "You know what and you know who. . .And as long as you trust and believe, the courage will come to you."

Courage. That was a funny word to a military man. He had the courage to shoot off a weapon in a courtroom. The courage to sit and pilot a gigantic hunk of metal off of a bigger hung of moving metal. Harm had the courage to take a weapon and fire in anger, as well as take the pain for someone he loved. But, in his personal life, when it came to something he really wanted and needed in his life, the courage failed him. "Thanks Doc. . .I'm feeling better already."


	16. Circle Of Fear

**Chapter 16 – Circle Of Fear**

**Two Months After Paraguay  
****0830 Local  
****JAG Headquarters  
****Falls Church, Virginia**

Stepping out of the elevator was one of the most difficult things he'd ever done in his life. Harm had conned himself into coming into work and stepping out of the car and stepping into the building. Now, all he wanted to do was run. He swallowed hard and gripped the handle of his briefcase so tightly, his knuckles went white. He could hear his heart beating rapidly and the sudden case of vertigo overwhelmed him. No. He couldn't do this today, maybe not ever.

He made an about face and reached up to press the elevator button when it opened and a familiar face lit up in his presence. "Sir!" Lieutenant Bud Roberts missed his friends. Harm and Mac seemed to be the only two that could help his erratic thinking. Lord knows they were the force that made sure he got together and remained with the woman he loved. In many ways, Harmon Rabb was his big brother and one hell of a lawyer to admire. "Sir, are you alright?"

The weight in his shoulders dissipated enough to get his bearings again. Harm felt marginally better with Bud at his side. "Hey Bud." He tapped his friend on the shoulder with his cover. "I'm fine, just getting my sea legs back. . .Shall we?" With a smile, he motioned towards the double glass doors and led the way inside. If he hurried, he could head into his office and lock himself inside without incident. "So how's Harrie. . ." Harm couldn't get the question out before the applause began. The whole staff was standing, smiling at him with an appreciative gleam in their eyes. It made an uncomfortable situation even worse. "Ah, thanks. . .Thanks. . .That's enough."

"Commander." Tiner stepped up to him carrying a handful of files. "The Admiral told me you were heading in. Good to have you back, sir." He handed a few folders to Bud and one to Harm. "Lieutenant, Commander Turner asked me to hand you those. Commander, the Admiral would like to see you ASAP."

So much for hiding away in his office, if his luck didn't change he'd soon run into Mac. As much as he wanted to see her, Harm wasn't ready for that confrontation. He understood now why she ran away when her wedding with Mic fell through. Damnit, what he would give to be out on sea duty at this particular time. "Good, I'll just put this away and be right there." He turned away from his friends and nearly managed to make it to his office without incident. Nearly.

The collision was rather unexpected. Mac just hadn't considered that anyone would be standing near her office, much less Harm's. Since their faux pas a few weeks back she'd thrown herself into work and tried not to think of him. She did know that he'd been released from Bethesda and information of him seeing a shrink only came when Chegwidden filled her in. There had been no mention of his returning to work, which is partially why she was so shocked that he was there. "Sor-ry." She stammered and glanced up at him. His eyes were a bit darker, his cheeks turning a pale white as if he were shocked.

Harm couldn't breathe. It was almost as if she'd sucked the life out of him with just one touch. For a few seconds, which felt like a lifetime, he stood in front of her, staring like a love sick puppy. He snapped out of it long enough to bend down and pick up the file that had slipped out of her hands. Hastily, he handed over the file. "Hi. Hey." His tight smile was a clear indication at his displeasure, so was the curt way in which he'd maneuvered her out of his way. "The Admiral wants me." With that parting declaration, he stepped into his office, placed his cover and briefcase on his desk and then quickly headed towards Chegwidden's office, without much notice to the woman he'd left behind. Only he _did_ notice her. She _did_ overwhelm him and it was something that they didn't need on his return to work.

Mac watched him disappear into Tiner's office and only then did she remember that she had a case to prepare for. Turning on her heel she ignored Bud and Sturgis who stood just a few feet away and hurriedly entered her office. She closed all of the blinds, making sure that her privacy was intact. It was also a way for her not to watch Harm. Not to notice him in the bullpen or walking out of AJ's office. As much as she tried to be fine, she wasn't. On the inside, Mac felt like she was being ripped apart. She loved Harm and even told him so. Why hadn't that been enough? The hopes that he'd recover enough for them to have a decent discussion was squashed with the way he'd treated her just now.

She'd been used to being made a fool of. In the past, she'd blamed herself for the pathetic ways she'd fawned over him. Wearing your heart on your sleeve always opened you up to pain and hurt. But this time, it just wasn't the same. This time, she'd laid in bed and let him in. Truth be told, Mac felt ashamed that her feelings for him were so out of control that she allowed him to seduce her. Her heart physically ached.

Mac pressed a hand to her chest and took a deep breath. She wouldn't let him do this to her, not again. Life was about joy and pain, and she was sick of the latter. If he didn't want her, that was fine, she'd find a way to stop caring for him. Ah, yes, for all of the pain she felt, Mac still cared for Harm, deeply. Something that she hoped would eventually subside. She stood up straight, tugged at her uniform top and headed towards her desk. "I'm a Marine. . .I can get through this." But it was difficult to ignore the little voice in her head that made her believe Harm loved her too.

In AJ's office, Harm sat in one of the guest chairs, counting the different pieces of Naval memorabilia in the office. The Admiral was on the phone and the conversation, from what he could pick up, wasn't a good one. "Well, I really don't give a rat's ass. . .get those files to my office by noon today." The phone was slammed onto the cradle, his glasses flew across the desk as AJ brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Rabb, what am I going to do with you?"

The conversation was about him? "Sir?" Harm gulped and paled slightly. Was he to receive the other part of the barrage? His want to remain homebound was growing by the second, with his luck he'd probably bang into Mac again as he left the office.

"The CIA blocked your psych evals from us. . .It's a good thing for your Naval service record but . . ."

"Understood, sir." If the Admiral hadn't been staring at him so intently, Harm would have breathed a sigh of relief. As much as the files were confidential, it had been known for some information to slip through the cracks, especially with pilots. "I'm fine, sir. . .At least, I am getting there."

Chegwidden wasn't too sure and it wouldn't be the first or last time that Harm had hidden a deeper pain by burying himself in work. It wasn't healthy and eventually led to something like the stunt he'd pulled to join Mac in Paraguay. "All of your charges with the Singer case have been dropped. Your involvement in Paraguay has been deemed classified. . .As of right now, the last couple of months are a blank slate."

"That's very good to hear." They sat in silence for a moment, each man staring each other down until Harm gave up and presented the one thing that he knew AJ, and probably the rest of the staff, was curious about. "You must have been upset with the way I barged into Mac and Webb's mission."

"I was furious." The Admiral stated, point blank and with a monotone. "Kershaw didn't have squat to do with it, did he?"

Harm cringed, let the barrage begin. "Only in helping me in. . .I pretty much annoyed him into letting me go."

"Why?"

"I felt that Mac needed the back up. . . .Webb too." He added, almost as an afterthought. In all honesty, the last person he was thinking about was Clayton Webb. "His missions tend to go south quickly, I thought. . ."

All of that anger and fury that AJ thought he'd bottled up suddenly raged inside of him. The tiger had been let out of its cage. "You _thought_ you could play Superman, is that it, Rabb?" He stood up and placed his palms on the desk. "You damn near got yourself _and_ Colonel MacKenzie killed."

Sitting up at attention, he shouted back. "Sir, Gunny was in trouble and we. . ."

"Lock it up." Chegwidden said in his toughest command voice and then settled back into his chair with a sigh. "I am still furious at you. As much as I would love to hang you from the nearest yardarm, I can't." His tone softened now even more, his eyes took on a look of compassion and caring. "If it weren't for your stupidity Mac, Webb, Gunny and a whole lot of people would probably be dead."

At least that nightmare, the one of Mac dying at the hands of Yourlsef Caled, had vanished from his nights. "You make me sound like a hero, sir. . . I just. I just wanted Mac to be okay."

"I have the right mind to press you on that, but I know it won't do me any good. . . I know you and Mac have a special relationship." The knowing look in his eyes was apparent. Instantly, Harm knew that the Admiral had spoken to Mac. He only hoped that not too much was disclosed, though he doubted that Mac would reveal just how 'special' the relationship became. "Harm, sometimes, we need time and space. . .Just, don't let that time and space destroy something that's good and right."

Then there were those moments where Chegwidden poked and prodded, without making it look like he was doing it. Those moments didn't happen too much, AJ was usually a very direct man, but their relationship was none of his business. "Just keep any problems out of my office. . .Now, it's a little crazy around here and during your and the Colonel's absence, Commander Imes has returned to us and will possibly stick around for a few months until you can get your sea legs back."

It was clear that the Admiral had a constituent when it came to leaving his office for any reason: when you return, you'll be burned. That was the long standing joke shared between the officers based on Harm and Mac's mistakes. "My sea legs will appreciate that, sir. . .I supposed you'll have me do briefs, for now?" Briefs, in JAG ops, was almost like 'time out' for children.

However, there was one particular thing that Harm had inherited and then managed to evade ever since. "Yes, but first, I need you to work on the budget report. . .There have been several changes to the offices. That funding for TDA's that you got for us disappeared when you stopped doing the reports." He didn't hide the smirk when Harm visibly cringed.

That was probably the most positive thing that came out of his crash into the Atlantic. The Budget report went 'bye bye.' "I'll get those funds back, sir."

"Good. . .Dismissed." As Harm came up and to attention, he motioned towards the two folders on his desk. "Can you please take those files to Colonel MacKenzie. Let her know that they are waiting her signature."

So much for his worry of running into her, he'd have to walk into the lion's den now. "Aye, sir." Gingerly, he picked up the files and nearly sprinted across the office. Outside he found Tiner engrossed in some file he was typing. Smirking, he fingered the files and extended them to the yeoman. "Tiner, will you make sure that Colonel MacKenzie gets these? Oh, and tell her she needs to sign them."

"Yes, sir." Tiner took the files and placed them directly next to the keyboard. "I'll hand these over once I see her."

Harm's grin turned into a smile. "Good man, Tiner." He sighed deeply and headed back into the bullpen.

Okay, so he was a coward, unwilling to face the woman that was troubling him. But, he was slick about it. Very slick, very cool and very, very not looking where he was going. "Oooof."

It was a clear collision, papers flying all over the place and enough to stop the hustle and bustle of the bullpen. "I'm sor. . ." Mac glanced up and found him in front of her again. That pep talk from earlier did her absolutely no good. The moment her eyes found his, her heart betrayed her, again. She saw confusion in his eyes and an absolute look of disgust and maybe a little shame.

"I'll get those." In order to avoid the gaze, he squatted down and began picking up the paper that was now littered about the linoleum. The whole thing was like a bad nightmare. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to her, to make things right. It was just that he didn't know what to say or how to say it. "Here." Awkwardly, he shoved the papers at her and then crossed his arms over his chest. "So, how are. . ."

"I have court." She cut him off. This wasn't something that Mac needed to hash out at that particular moment, especially with the whole world watching them. She hugged the files to her and made a hasty retreat, but not before stopping at her door. "Welcome back." She threw over her shoulder and disappeared behind the sanctity of her office.

Sturgis and Bud had been standing beside the fax machine, their expressions one of confusion. "That was the most awkward thing I'd ever seen." They hadn't even behaved that badly when he'd first arrived at ops. "What do you make of it Lieutenant?"

"I am not sure you want to know, Commander." He knew what to make of it alright. It was as clear as day that his two closest friends had become _involved_ at some point and that things hadn't worked out for the best. "Don't know what to make of it at all. Excuse me." He removed the paper from the fax and headed towards his office. If Harm and Mac were going to settle back into that awkward state, things in the office were going to be hell on everyone.

2035 Local 

**Benzinger's Bar**

**Falls Church, Virginia**

"Sooooo, how does it feel to be back?" Sturgis asked as he slid a frothy beer over to his drinking companion as they sat at the bar. He'd been hoping to get his friend back into the swing of things for quite some time and it seemed like the perfect opportunity.

Harm drank down a quarter of the glass and then wiped the froth off of his upper lip with the napkin off the bar. "Fine. I guess." He shrugged, attempting to remain nonchalant about the whole event when, in reality, he was thanking his lucky stars that this time he was received with open arms. When he returned back from flying, he felt like everyone had moved on without him. "The Admiral has me on the fucking budget report until I can get my sea legs back. . . Could have been worse. I half expected him to hang me from the nearest yardarm after the stunt I pulled."

"I believe he was considering it." Sturgis chuckled. "But I think he quickly got over it when news that you and Mac went missing hit the airwaves." Conspiringly, he leaned over, looking his friend in the eye. "What happened out there? What _really_ happened?"

It probably was all classified, but since he'd been in therapy, the CIA hadn't quite had the time to de-brief him. Nevertheless, he was certain that Mac's side of the story would have been more than sufficient considering she was awake through all of it. "We went out there under one pretense which wound up becoming another. . .Basically, they needed someone to stop a very bad man. . .In the process, that man captured Mac and me when we went to rescue a colleague of ours." He let out a sharp intake of breath as he toyed with the handle on the beer mug.

Therapy was helping, a lot, but he still couldn't get over the images. Images that weren't always of himself but sometimes involved Mac. He couldn't bear to think of her going through the pain he went through. "Harm? You alright, buddy?" When he looked up, Sturgis noted the tears brimming his eyes.

"Car batteries and cables attached to steel wool. . . The mental torture, I could probably hack. . . But. . .They would have gotten to Mac too. . .Hell, she was next." He drank down the rest of the beer in a few gulps and waved for the bartender to bring them another round. "Anyway, we escaped and spent several days in the jungle trying to evade and survive while I was bleeding to death and fighting an infection. The story would probably be the next best seller if the CIA lets me pen it and I remembered more of it." He chuckled mirthlessly as his fingers traced through the condensation on the beer mug.

Sturgis sat there motionless. He now understood what Mac had omitted during an earlier conversation about Harm's injuries when he was still at Bethesda. "Yeah, I know the middle portion of the story. . .or at least, whatever parts Mac could tell."

"Mac has loose lips."

"Mac cares about you and the doctors there needed to know what the hell happened to properly treat you. . .And you have to admit, the treatment worked." He pointed at Harm's hands which were not trembling. "The shakes have stopped."

"I'll drink to that." Harm took the mug from the bartender, raised it up and clinked it with Sturgis'. "I have to say, this is the last time I poke fun at any shrink. . . .Talking about it worked."

"It usually does. . .Didn't you have to see a shrink after the ramp strike?"

"Nope." And thank God for that, he probably never would have seen the inside of a Tomcat again if a shrink would have gotten involved. He was a mess back then. Then again, he was a mess now too.

"What about that shrink you dated once?"

Jordan. Damn, how he tried not to think about her. Harm couldn't say it, but that was a death that he did not handle well. Mac had seen him through it then, but right around the anniversary of her death, he had a habit of becoming melancholic. Part of him still felt responsible. "She died a few years ago. I thought I told you about it?"

"Yeah. . .I'm sorry I brought. . ."

Harm waved off his apology and shrugged. "Having a shrink for a girlfriend isn't the most ideal thing in the world though. They try to analyze you to bits and when you really need to talk to them, they can't help but psychoanalyze you. . .I cared for Jordan, a lot. . .and still, Mac was the first person I tended to go to when something was up."

" 'When something _was_ up'? Past tense?"

It felt like it was ages ago since he last spoke with her. Really spoke with her. "I don't think she'll ever speak to me again, Sturg."

"You two have had your arguments and as far as I know, you always make up."

Those were different times. For all of the shots he'd dished, things weren't as complicated as they were now. He'd pushed her away again and doubted very much that Mac would set herself up to allow him to do it a forth time. "You know that whole 'water under the bridge' spiel? This time. . .I feel like a I took a gas can and lit that bridge on fire."

But what Sturgis couldn't quite grasp was why the pair seemed to jumble things up so badly. He knew about the argument, Mac had disclosed it to him. It couldn't end like that. "You need to talk to her, Harm."

"After the way I treated her? I can't." No, it was more like – he wouldn't. "I don't want to rehash all of that with her. . .She heard everything, Sturgis. . .Everything. . .My screams, the sound of the. . ." That alone had to drive her mad, and yet, she was the one that got them out. "She's stronger than I am, that's for sure."

Sturgis shrugged, as much as he knew about his friends, they were pretty evened out. "I think you're equals. . .It's why you two get along. . .It's also why you two fight so much. . .Go and see her will you? Before you drive us all nuts." He grinned and patted Harm on the shoulder. "On to better subjects. . .Did you hear about the case I got to try?"

"Yeah, the one of the Sailor that tried to blow up the mess hall?" He let out a long whistle and shook his head. "That's just crazy. . ."

Benzinger's was particularly busy that night, much busier than most Friday nights. Perhaps that is why no one saw Mac take a seat in the booth right behind Harm and Sturgis. She didn't notice them there either. To her credit, she wasn't actively looking for anyone. "Tonic water with a twist, thank you." Settling herself comfortably in the booth, she paged through the menu that the waitress had brought her. Benzinger's food was the typical comfort food that she needed at the moment. Mac should have been joyous. Ecstatic. Waiting for the chance to scream from the rooftops that the man she loved had, in all intents and purposes, come home. Instead, she was ready to drown her sorrows in a virgin drink and saw off a half pound of sirloin goodness.

Her life really was like an earthquake. The mother of all earthquakes. Catastrophic. She was a walking disaster.

The week had been, quite literally, Hell. That day she'd also managed to break her heel, stain her jacket with coffee and lose to Sturgis. Alright, so the case wasn't exactly an easy one. The creep she was defending had it coming, and then some.

Sighing, she tossed back her non-alcoholic drink, missing the burn that only a true drink could give her. AA meetings or not, on occasion, she missed alcohol and its numbing effects. The problem with those effects was that the next morning the numbness would wear off and you were left with the same thoughts and emotions and with the joys of a hang over. It was better to be sober and miserable than to be drunk and mean.

Two familiar voices made her lower the menu and take a look. It was then that she spotted Harm and Sturgis sitting no less than five feet away from her. They seemed to enjoy themselves, kicking back beers and chuckling with the bartender, a pretty red headed girl that was clearly flirting with the pair. Mac sank further into the booth, hoping that she wouldn't be noticed. Hoping to avoid another awkward encounter. She couldn't hide away forever, but tonight she needed to lick her wounds. Propping the menu back up, she politely excused the waitress, asking for a little more time.

That particular evening, the music was tuned down low, making it easy to pick up on a certain conversation. Or maybe she was just uniquely attuned to Harm? Nevertheless, she found it difficult not to listen in when her name came up.

"So, you and Mac?" Sturgis definitely was of the 'dog with a bone' variety. Ever since stepping foot into JAG ops, he'd never completely given up considering the possibility of a relationship between Harm and Mac. The pair was just too close for it not to raise notice. And there was something different about Harm, his eyes lit up just a bit too much even when he was trying to downplay the situation in Paraguay. That's when it hit him. The defense. The unease between them. It was far worse than the first time he'd experienced it and that could only mean one thing: "You're together. Aren't you?"

"No. . .We aren't together, Sturgis." Not after the things he'd told her. Not after those awkward moments at JAG ops. How could they be together now? "We slept together, that's pretty much where it begins and ends."

"_No_." His friend remained defiant. Sturgis would get blood from this stone even if he had to beat it all night long.

"No?"

"_No_. . .I am not going to accept that crap. . .You love her, she loves you. And the two of you need to stop this childish crap of yours and make it work."

Harm snorted loudly and shook his head. "Whatever, buddy."

Point blank. That was obviously the way things needed to be with his two stubborn friends. Point blank, no holes barred. "Answer me this: Do you love her?" There was, absolutely, no way he was letting Harm out of this one. Not without an answer. "Damnit, Harm. Do you love, Mac?"

"No." He shook his head and glanced down at the mug resting between his hands.

The two friends sat motionless, oblivious to the woman sitting behind them whose heart was, now, more than broken, more than shattered. As quickly as she could, Mac took money out of her purse, placed it on the table and walked out calmly. She didn't attract attention. In fact, no one noticed that she was gone.

Sturgis, too, was devastated. How could he have read all the signs so wrong? "You don't?" He managed to croak out, feeling remorse for Mac. "You have to be the single most pig headed, asshole, jerk of the. . ."

Harm spun the mug on the bar, its contents swirling around like a maelstrom. "I'm in love with her." Raising a brow, he turned to his friend. "I don't just _love_ Mac. I'm _in love_ with her. . .And I didn't realize the difference until all of this happened. I pushed her away because I don't want to hurt her. I don't want to hurt either. . .I'm a catastrophe and she doesn't need that. She doesn't need me."

Okay, then. Finally, things were starting to make _some_ sense. "You're fine now, Harm. . .I suggest you cut the pity party crap and tell her how you feel before you lose her forever."

Oh God, he wanted that. More than anything he wanted them to work, for their intimacy in Paraguay not to have been for naught. But, he couldn't. "I can't."

"Why the hell not?" Anger wasn't a good shade on Sturgis. Neither was violence, but at the moment, maybe beating his friend into a pulp might send a message? When he didn't receive an answer, he opted for a theory of his own. "Look, if you're trying to save her from something, you're going about it all wrong. . . Look, if you want to save her, then first you have to save yourself. Go to Mac and tell her what you feel. . .And if you want to free her from the hurt, don't do it with your pain. . .If you want to see her smile again, don't show her you're afraid. . .You two, your circle of fear is the same. . .You're both scared to death that you'll destroy this relationship, when you haven't even given it a chance."

Thankfully, Harm wasn't drunk (only slightly sober) and his wit was still in abundance. "So, what you're trying to say, oh guru of relationships, is that I should go and talk to her?"

It was more profound than that, however, "Yes, that's what I am saying. . .So, get your ass out of here. . .The beer's on me."

Harm patted his friend on the back and practically skipped out of Benzinger's. His confidence was high, but as the distance neared, a feeling of unease gripped him. Paraguay, his words to her at the hospital, the words he hadn't told her. . .it had all driven a wedge between him and Mac.

He drove to her apartment on autopilot and was surprised to be parked right across the street. "Shit." He cursed and then stared up at her window. A light was on, so he knew that she was home. It was now or never.


	17. Talk To Me

"Talk to me" is the name of a song from Stevie Nicks. I was in a Fleetwood  
Mac kick the other night. LOL!!

Okay, the ending of this chappie is kinda idealistic. However, it's my  
season 9 and do you really want them tearing eachother's eyeballs out? It  
may make for a good Pay Per View event, Don King could fund it but. . .No!!  
Anyway. Moving right along. ;)

Enjoy!

J.

**CHAPTER 17 – Talk To Me**

**2140 Local  
****Mac's Apartment  
****Georgetown**

Staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, Mac couldn't quite seem to see herself anymore. The woman staring back at her looked tired and hurt and angry.

_Do you love Mac?_

_No. _

She could still hear his voice in her head. Something about the tone was tormenting her, torturing her. Maybe it was karma for all of the things she did in her past? Or maybe she was just really unlucky. Her life had always been one gigantic puzzle with pieces that didn't fit. Tonight, one more piece was discarded.

"Maybe I'm cursed?" Mac asked the reflection and waited for an answer that never came.

It was better this way, wasn't it? Knowing that someone didn't want you was an added bonus. A normal person would move on with life, pick up the pieces of a broken heart and find someone new. The problem with that scenario lay in the fact that she didn't want someone else and if Harm didn't want her, maybe it was a sign that she was meant to be alone? Maybe she was destined to remain and die alone, just like her father.

A loud bang, coming from her living room, brought her attention back to the present moment. Someone was knocking at her door. Consulting her internal clock and finding it was past ten pm, Mac cursed as she headed out of the bathroom and walked towards her apartment door.

Not in a million years could she have guessed that Harm would be standing on the other side. Seeing him through the peephole was a surprise; an unpleasant one. It wasn't enough that he had declared, out loud, that he didn't love her. Was he now coming to tell it to her face? The man couldn't be so cruel.

"Mac, it's Harm. I know you're in there, open up!" He yelled from the other side.

Mac suddenly felt sick. With a sigh, she opened up the door, leaving the safety chain on so that only four inches of the door would open. She peered at him through it and made no attempt to let him inside when she was met with his pleading eyes. "What are you doing here?" Her tone was neither kind nor friendly.

Harm noted the hostility and the angry look in her eyes that was mixed with something else. Hurt, maybe? "Hi. . .We need to talk."

The last thing she was looking for was to give him an opening that would tear at her heart just a bit more. If she had to avoid the man for the rest of her life then that's what she would have to do. "There's nothing to talk about. . .Please _leave_."

The finality in her voice was heartbreaking and the moment she tried to throw the door in his face, Harm opted for another approach which may have been a bad idea.. "AHH!" He yelped as his hand was caught between the door and the jam.

Thankfully, Mac hadn't slammed it hard. "Damnit, Harm!" Quickly Mac removed the chain, pulled the door open and in one swift movement, pulled Harm into her apartment. Ignoring her former plight and want for him to leave, she pushed the door shut and ushered him past the dining room and into the kitchen. Desperately she fished through the freezer finding a cold pack which she pressed into his palm and wrapped around his hand. "You really are insane, you know that?"

"I know." He said between gritted teeth while he stared down at his throbbing appendage. "I haven't had my hand caught in anything since I was ten. I forgot how much it hurts."

The guilt was evident in Mac's eyes as she made contact with his own. Frowning, she glanced between his hand and his eyes. "I'm sorry. . .I really, really am and I. . .Oh. . ." Stopping in mid-sentence she realized something was. . .different. A good kind of different. "Oh." Her heart raced faster, her breathing sped up. Mac swallowed down the lump at the back of her throat. She removed the cold pack from his hand and just stared.

"You're hand's not shaking." During the day and the awkwardness of the morning, she hadn't quite found it pertinent to ask about his condition. Now, she was pleasantly surprised. Delighted, Mac stared up at him with a bright smile. "When?. . .H-h-how?"

Despite the pain, Harm grinned impishly. "Seems like part of the damage was psychological. Once I started to get a handle on things, it got better. . .A whole lot better." He winced once she placed the pack back on his hand.

"Are you cured?" It was difficult to ask, for fear that he would say differently. To Mac, one of the deepest regrets was ever going on that stupid mission to begin with. If she hadn't, Harm would have been safe. That guilt would never wash away.

"Yeah. . .just in time to go up before the review board on Friday. . .Quals, thankfully, were pushed back, so I won't have to do them for another two months but. . ." For a moment there, it seemed that they were making progress. "Mac?" At the very least, they were starting to speak civilly, even for the briefest of moments. But, when she turned away at the mention of his flying plans, Harm could tell that another wrench was thrown into the works. "Mac? Talk to me!"

It was easy to comprehend and understand Harm's love of flying. It was another thing, altogether, to accept that it would be a huge part of who he was. And it wasn't that Mac didn't trust him to fly, he was one hell of a pilot, the best, in her book. She just didn't want to lose him, not that way. Not the way Trish had lost Harm Sr. No matter how irrational it was, she turned away and headed into the living room. Harm followed, she knew he would, but the gap that seemed to be closing, opened up again. "I don't want to hear about you and your goddamned plane, Rabb."

There hand only been a few times, a handful really, that she'd ever used his last name. The fact that she had used it at that given moment made Harm angry. "Do me a favor. Tell me – What the hell do you want from me?"

"Obviously something that you aren't willing to give me." Mac sighed and deflated into her sofa. Why couldn't he understand? Was he so afraid to let go that even her vow to love him went uncared for? More than ever, she wanted answers. Validation. She needed to know if what had happened in Paraguay was for his benefit in order to get her into bed. "Was everything you said in Paraguay a lie?"

"I said many things in Paraguay."

And there began their usual tête-à-tête. The ebb and flow. The push and pull. Two lawyers who couldn't say what they really wanted to without pulling teeth. "The promise you made me one night. You said that it wouldn't end. . .Damn you." She wasn't prepared for the tears that slid down her cheek. "Damn you." Angrily, she brushed the tears away.

Horrified. He was truly horrified at the sight before him. Such a beautiful, strong and capable woman. Had he really done this to her? Made her hurt so much that her carefully built walls had all but crumbled? "Mac." Harm went to touch her shoulder, but she stood up quickly and moved towards the fireplace. "Mac."

"Maybe I should have seen it coming?" She touched a picture of the two of them taken a year and a half ago in Afghanistan. Things seemed to be getting so easy between them and now this. "I don't know why I am so hurt or surprised, you aren't the first man who said certain things to get me into bed."

It was difficult not to take offense at that. Harm had never been the type to say things to get a woman into bed. Most of the time, they went willingly. "It wasn't like that. . ._You know_ it wasn't like that."

"What was it like then?" Spinning around, she pinned him with a hard look.

"It was real." And he regretted every moment since then. The pain they both went through and his actions towards her. But, he never regretted spending two nights in her arms. "It was wonderful, it was real and I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world." Sincerity with his emotions had never been Harm's strong point. But if therapy had taught him anything, it was that he needed to let go. Tentatively, he moved around the coffee table and came to stand behind Mac. "Sarah, believe me. . .If it meant I would get to spend, at least, one more night with you, I would go through it all over again. . .All of it. . .I want you. Only you."

Mac shivered as his hand touched her shoulder. "Then why did you push me away?"

"Mac." The difficulty he face with admitting the truth was hurting her feelings more than he had. "It's complicated and I don't want to hurt you anymore."

His answer was more of a copout than anything else. Mac still needed the words. Any words that would make her believe that she was wanted as much as she wanted him. "I've loved you, pretty much from the beginning. I've tried to tell myself that what I felt for you was an infatuation, or the kind of love you feel for a good friend. But, it was deeper than that and I am tired of pretending that it's less than what I feel." She pressed a hand to hear heart and glanced up at Harm with tears in her eyes. When the hell had she lost all control of her emotions? She hoped that her confession would garner an emotion from him, something more than just an empty promise. But, when Harm didn't answer, her heart ached a bit more. "You've _never_ loved me that way. You never will." Any hopes she'd had left for a future with Harm were shattered that night. Hearing him tell Sturgis that he didn't love her had been the end of her dreams. She'd seen the real him and wasn't too surprised to see that he was like every other man she knew. "You want me. You find me attractive. You can't stand to see me with another man. But, you don't love me."

Harm's brow furled. Anger licked the flames within him. Yes, he'd said and made some stupid mistakes in regards to Mac, but did she really think he didn't care? "That's not true! You aren't a fling, Mac. . .You're wrong if that's what you think you are."

"Am I? There were times where. . ." Stopping in mid-sentence, she laughed at herself. Why was she bothering finding explanations to things that, would never, ever, be explained? "Never mind. Just go." Mac pointed towards the door and turned her head away from him. There was nothing more to say.

"No!" The last thing he was willing to do was leave before she understood, at least a bit, of what was going on inside him. He was still a mess, still trying to pick up the pieces of his life that were charred away in Paraguay. But, he needed her to feel whole again. He wanted her and that had to count for something. "I'm not leaving, Mac." He stood his ground, defiantly stepping closer to her so that his breath tickled her skin. "I know I've said some stupid things. I let my insecurities get the best of me." When she wouldn't turn to look him in the eye, Harm walked around her and held her shoulders so that she had to look at him. "Damnit, Mac. There are a lot of factors here. Maybe I should have done something six years ago before I left to fly. You and I felt the same thing then, I know we did I just. . . I, just wanted it to be because it was you I saw and not the ghost of Diane."

And there was the _other_ woman. The one that Mac always feared would exist no matter what happened between herself and Harm. "It's not my fault that I look like her, Harm."

"I'm not saying that it is but. . ."

"But, nothing. . .Do you know how fucking horrible it feels to have your partner look at you and know he's seeing someone else?" It had happened in the beginning, when she'd caught him looking at her. His expression had been melancholic. Sometimes it gave her chills, other times it made her feel like crawling under a rock. "Do you know how many times I wished I was disfigured so that you could see me as me?. . . That wound has closed up through the years. I know you don't see _her_ anymore, but the scars are still here." She pointed at her heart. "I've come to the conclusion that you never wanted to be with me at all. . .You just.. .You don't want another man in my life either. . And you know what, Rabb? That isn't fair. . .love me or leave me, but stop making me live in the middle. . .I can't take it. My heart can't take it anymore." She made to move away from him and his pleading gaze that was killing her. His eyes always turned her to mush, though she put up a good fight resisting.

It wasn't in the Rabb nature to do the Neanderthal thing but, if that's what it took. Roughly, Harm grabbed Mac, turning her to look at him and holding her steady when she resisted. "Damnit, Mac, I care for you. More than just a friend. . .But I can't tell you the words right now Mac. . ." He wanted to and eventually there would come a time that he would need to tell her what she'd always wanted to hear from him. It just couldn't happen while he was still putting together the pieces of his life. "I need to be whole again. . .I need to feel like _me_ again." He released his hold on her, his hands sliding down Mac's arms leaving fire in their wake. "I'm sorry I've pushed you away, I didn't realize how much it would. . .I was angry. I was hurt." He sighed and looked down at the floor. "I'm. . afraid." Harm said, in a voice so soft.

Mac's question was in a voice as soft as his own. "Of what?"

He slipped his hands into her own, glad not to find the resistance he thought would be there. "I don't want to lose you if something goes wrong."

His sincerity was heartwarming as well as unexpected. "Then stop pushing me away. . .It hurts, you know?"

That electricity, the chemistry was there, in his touch. Harm could feel it. Mac could too. Taking a deep breath, Harm pulled her to him, holding on for dear life. "I'm sorry, Mac."

She breathed a shaky sigh of relief. "Let's stop the dance. Once and for all, let's just stop the dance."

It was a fair request, he thought. A request that should have been considered a year ago if not sooner. "Can we do that?"

Mac pulled away and looked him in the eye. "Yes. Yes, we can. . .Harm, you aren't the only one who's scared. . .In this case, it's alright to be." She pressed a palm to his cheek and smiled. Any other woman would have stood by her first want to kick him out of the house. But, somehow, she couldn't do that. Maybe she was weak, naive and gullible, but there was something about Harm that usually made her give in. "Stay the night." Her eyes, which moments ago reflected the sadness and lost she'd felt, now were alive. "Nothing has to happen, I just. . .I kinda liked sharing a bed with you." She said, as if the admission cost her something.

The want to give into that temptation was almost too much. He would give anything to share a bed with her, even in the most chaste of ways. "Mac, if we're going to give this thing a real shot, then you need to know something. . ." He pulled her towards the sofa and they both sat down. "I'm. . .having a bit of a. . .ah. . .physical problem." He hesitated slightly, making a slightly embarrassed face that he hoped would get the point across. "In the bedroom." He added quickly hoping not to scare her. "It's not permanent. The doc thinks that. . .well, it's psychological and that I shouldn't rush things."

Mac smiled shyly. It couldn't be easy letting the woman you're attracted to know that their little sailor had problems playing with others. "So, we'll take things slow. . .I'm not going anywhere." Harm knew that she meant it.

A few minutes later Harm had headed down to his car and returned with his seabag. They then showered (not together). Chatted over a cup of coffee and a slice of store bought apple pie. Before long, Harm lay in Mac's bed glancing around at the motif as if he'd never seen it before. Truthfully, this was the most foreign room in her entire apartment. He'd stepped inside maybe a handful of times. The first time, wasn't pleasant at all when a psychotic detective had been stalking Mac.

Never in a million years could he have thought he'd ever wind up in her bed. True, this wasn't he most ideal of situations. Sleeping wasn't the only thing he wanted to do in Mac's bed, but he would take it, happily so. He nestled his head into the pillow, taking a whiff at the scent of Mac. "I could get used to this."

"So could I." Mac smiled from the bathroom door and then made her way over to the bed. She slid under the covers and turned on her side so that she could see him. He was tired, Mac could see it in his eyes and still, a question nagged her. One that she should have asked before. "Harm, why did you tell Sturgis that you didn't love me?"

It took a flash, an instant for Harm to realize why she was so cold to him earlier that night. "You were there? A Benzinger's?" Just like he had time and time again, she assumed the worst. "You didn't hear the rest of the conversation." He let it drop there, sighing deeply. Why was it so easy to admit to Sturgis that he loved Mac? Why was it so hard to tell her now? "Mac, I know you want to hear the words. . .I just can't. Not now. . .Part of me is still in pieces and I want to fix that before it gets too serious."

Mac nodded. "I am not going to say that it doesn't hurt, because it does. But, I understand. Like I said earlier, I am not going anywhere." She leaned over and placed a kiss on his cheek. "Night, Harm." She then shut the light of and snuggled into bed. He didn't reach for her, Mac didn't expect him to.

"I don't see her anymore." Harm said to the dark, then turned over. He couldn't see her in the dark, but the movement of the bed indicated that Mac was facing him. "Diane. I don't see her anymore when I look at you. . .The two of you, the difference was like day and night."

"Do you think you'd have stayed with her if she were still alive?" That question nagged at her so much in the past and sometimes in the present.

"No. I don't think we would have stayed together." He said matter-of-factly without any hurt in his voice whatsoever. "She used to get on my nerves a lot when we were at the Academy. It was a shock when I saw her in that body bag. It hurt. But, Diane and I were sometimes like water and vinegar. We would fight and spend days and weeks without talking. That doesn't make for a good relationship. I loved her, but it wouldn't have been enough to make it last. For that matter, I think our relationship was more one sided." He wriggled his way closer to her. "You two do look a lot alike. But, there are differences."

"Well, there has to be, we are two totally different people."

Harm grinned. "Your eyes, Mac. . .They show all of your emotions, even the ones you try to hide. You have a smile that can light up a room." His eyes were beginning to adjust enough for him to see her face. Harm reached over and pressed a palm to her cheek. "I've never known a woman like you. Tough, strong and yet so incredibly feminine and sexy."

Mac's breath caught in her throat. "I. . .Harm."

"I mean it, Mac. I meant it when I told you that I saw a desirable woman." Leaning towards her, Harm brushed his lips against hers. He kissed her softly, gently. It wasn't a chaste kiss, but it wasn't the all consuming type either. It was sweet.

When he settled back into the bed, he pulled Mac over giving her the space to rest her head on his chest. "I think Chegwidden is going to send me away on vacation." He commented after a moment. Earlier that day, he was having trouble concentrating on work. Chegwidden had noticed and suggested a meeting in the morning with the premise of sending Harm away for a few days. "I hate to say it, but, I think it would do me some good."

"It wasn't like you've been relaxing these months. You've been through the therapies, prepared for work. Maybe you should go, recharge the batteries. Maybe it will help fit those pieces you need to put back together."

"Frank has a cabin up in Vermont by a lake. He rents it out during the year, but it's unoccupied for the next two weeks. . .I was thinking of heading over for a few days. Do some fishing, canoeing."

"Sleeping." Mac nudged him with a chuckle. "I said recharge the batteries not do manual labor."

Harm snorted. "None of that is manual labor. . .You think you could get some time off?" It hadn't really occurred to him, until now, that Mac could vacation with him. As far as he knew (not that he knew much), Mac never took time off after the fiasco.

"I probably could. Chegwidden suggested it when I headed back into work. But, I needed the distraction."

"Come with me. . .The place is pretty big. No TV, but Frank has a very nice collection of books and I know you like to. . ."

As much as she wanted to, Mac felt this was something he needed to do alone. "No. This is your vacation, not mine. . .It might be better if I am not around." She didn't want him to think about what happened in Paraguay. With her there, how could he not?

"Mac. . .If I didn't want you there, I wouldn't have asked you to come. . .I want your company."

She bit her lower lip in contemplation. He had asked and Harm wasn't the type to ask if he wasn't sure about it. "Alright. I'm game."

"Good." He said and then sighed happily. "Good night, Marine." Harm kissed the top of her head and pulled the sheets tight against him.

"Good night. . .Oh and Harm?"

"Mmmm?" He mumbled groggily as sleep began to claim him.

Mac kissed his chest, right above his heart. She should have stayed mad at him. She should have thrown Harm out of her house and begun to mend her heart. But, if they were keeping promises, she had made one of her own – the promise to stay by his side. "I still love you." She said softly, sensing that he was asleep and likely not to hear a word.

"I know." And soon, he would share the same sentiment.


	18. The More I Love You

Yes! After over a month of nada... here we go! CHappie 18!

Bear with me, I've been BUUUUUUUSY since December. You guys have no idea.  
Som eof my days have been 15+ Work days. Anyway.

This is chapie long, with smut, with some amusing moments. The flying bug  
and the centipede came about because of two of my friends.

My best friend nearly killed us when a flying bug flew into the car (She's  
deathly afraid of them) and she started swerving all over. She then stopped  
the car, ran out yelling "JACKIE GET IT!!!"

The centipede is another one of my friends who is scared shitless of them.  
I was bored, I incorporated those two fears of bugs. It's amusing.and  
you'll see what I mean!

Anyway... here goes.

AS always, thank you to V for betaing this ASAP. You rock! ;)

**CHAPTER 18 – The More I Love You**

**September 15, 2005  
****1435 Local  
****Hubbarton, Vermont**

It had taken a little longer than anticipated to get that, much needed, vacation. Issues in JAG, specifically the issues of one Caroline Imes, prevented Harm and Mac's departure. "I still can't believe that Caroline isn't a lawyer." Harm said, as he stepped out of the SUV they had rented and used for the drive. He headed towards the back and took out the suitcases.

Mac shrugged. "I can't believe no one found out sooner. You have to admit, she did have us fooled." She leaned up against the SUV and glanced ahead. Clusters of pine trees obscured the view, but she was sure that a cabin, painted in dark green(,) stood waiting for its inhabitants. Turning towards Harm, she gave him a sly look. "When you said 'in the middle of no where' you really meant it."

"Maybe I just want you all to myself?" He grinned and then motioned with his head for her to follow. "C'mon, Marine."

A winding dirt path of about twenty feet led the way through the forest and towards the cabin. It was painted dark green, with some chips here and there in the paint that only added to its charm. The place had a wrap around porch and a wooden deck that led towards the lake. "Frank's been working on restoring it. He usually rents it out a few times a year."

Mac followed Harm up the three steps and onto the porch. The view was breathtaking with Lake Hortonia nestled majestically between the trees. "Oh." Mac's mouth hung open, her eyes gazed far into the distance. This was, quite possible, the most beautiful place she'd ever seen. It brought back memories of one summer, when she was twelve, and all she'd wanted to do was go camping. Her parents, mainly her father, never let her go and it was just another missed opportunity in her life. Sighing wistfully, she turned towards Harm. "It's beautiful."

"It is." He motioned for her to follow and came to a stop at a large wooden door with small windows which were blocked by curtains with a white and hunter green pattern. Harm placed the suitcases on the floor and fished through his pockets for the key. "We're lucky Frank's not renting out until next month." Stepping inside brought him memories of his teenage years. He'd made Frank's life hell, but there were some moments in time that life with his stepfather was bearable. His first trip to the lake was just after his return from Vietnam at age sixteen. It was the first time he'd seen Frank as a father figure, a man he could do 'guy stuff' with. It was Frank that taught him to fly-fish on that very lake. It was Frank who had urged him to get his act together so that his dream of going to Annapolis and being a Naval Aviator could come to fruition.

The interior of the cabin had very few decorations as the dark wood and its patterns made for its own brilliant image. Walking inside, the first thing to notice was the living room and two comfortable looking sofas that made an 'L' shape and the fireplace that sat adjacent to them. There was a small coffee table in the middle and next to a large window that overlooked the lake, sat two large leather reading chairs with a small round table between them. Around that window was a series of shelves filled with books and little knick knacks with a maritime theme. The kitchen was off to the side and had every appliance necessary to make a proper meal. The only thing missing, which Harm had warned Mac about, was a TV set.

"The bedroom is there, as well as the bathroom." Harm said, pointing to a door on the left which was open. He walked pass the living room and into the bedroom placing the suitcases on the large bed covered with a colorful quilt. A window at the end of the room allowed the light to shine through, casting a warm glow. "Maybe we can come back when it's snowing?"

Mac hadn't been there for more than five minutes, but she was already loving the place and Harm's future plans. "I think I'd like that a lot."

"Good." Harm smiled at her. Future plans were a good thing. "I'm going to go start dinner, why don't you take a shower and relax?" He motioned towards the bathroom. "The couple that takes care of the cabin for Frank stocked it for us, so there should be clean towels and anything else we would need." His plan was to not have to leave the place, at all, for the whole week.

Mac took his advice and after a nice hot shower joined him in the kitchen where Harm was peeling carrots. "Need some help?" Before he could answer, she took the peeler away from him and started on the next carrot. "What?" She grinned coyly and began to peel away. "This place reminds me of camp."

"Hmm. Never went to camp. After dad went MIA, mom sorta got a bit. . .overprotective of me. I have no idea what a camp is like."

"Neither do I." She confessed with a dry chuckle. "My parents wouldn't let me go, but I always had this illusion of what it would be like. The cabin, the lake and the trees."

"The bugs, the poison oak and mystery meat?" He said with a twinkle in his eye. "Oh, wait, you're a Marine. Bugs and rolling around in the shrubs won't bother you."

She chuckled and swatted him on the shoulder. "I hate flying bugs, they creep me out."

Harm, who was cutting cucumbers for a salad, placed his knife down and stared at her, open mouthed. "Do my ears deceive me? Sarah MacKenzie, no, _Lieutenant Colonel_ Sarah MacKenzie, US Marine Corps, does not like _flying_ bugs?"

Mac raised her characteristic eyebrow. "_You_ don't like centipedes." It had been funny, quite hysterical really, to discover that this six foot four inch, hunk of a man was afraid of such a _tiny_, _harmless_ and _insignificant_ creature. They had been at her apartment, in the storage room, looking through boxes for. . .at the moment she couldn't even remember what they'd been looking for. But, he'd seen it first, hiding under a box, minding its own business. Harm had seen it and shrieked. "You shrieked."

"I don't shriek." He defended coolly as he grabbed the knife and began cutting more forcefully. "And so what if I don't like centipedes? _You're_ the Marine,_ I'm_ the sailor which means that I get a nice, warm, comfy bed to sleep on while you have to rack out in a foxhole."

"So does that mean that you wouldn't save a space in your bunk for little ol' me?" Mac gave him a cute pout while batting her eyelashes. "This Marine prefers a nice, warm, bunk to a foxhole. . Especially if that nice, warm, bunk has a sexy sailor in it."

A grin spread across Harm's lips as he leaned close to her. "You think I'm sexy?"

"Very." Mac closed the distance and placed a quick kiss on his lips. "Now, you need to feed me sailor. You've got a hungry Marine here."

"Aye, aye, ma'am."

After dinner, Mac joined Harm on the sofa. She snuggled up against him, enjoying the feeling of ease that the last months had given them. The agreement to take their relationship slowly was her idea. She didn't want to rush his recovery or hinder it. They would meet for dinner when their cases allowed for it. And with the "slow" relationship came some rules, one of them was 'no sleeping over.' Saturdays, in the afternoon, Mac would accompany Harm to therapy sessions and then they would wind up having dinner. Sundays they would meet at Rock Creek Park for a run topped off with breakfast. Kissing was allowed, as long as things didn't get too heated. "How long has Frank had this place?"

"Long. He bought it the year I decided to go to Laos on my own. When I came back mom and Frank thought I needed time away so they brought me out here." Harm was holding one of her hands in his, running his fingers over her own. The gentle caress relaxed him and added a bit more trust to their relationship. "You know, I hated here at first but, at some point, I just found myself loving it. That was the first time I started seeing Frank as someone I could trust. He's never let me down since and I appreciate him sticking around though I made his life hell."

"Thank you for letting me tag along. . .Honestly, I needed to get away from JAG and military formalities for a little while." Though Harm had his convalescent leave, she hadn't stopped working. Mac found that drowning herself in cases was the only way to cope with what had happened. It hadn't really occurred to her that maybe she needed to see a shrink as well.

"Thank you for agreeing to come along. It's nice having someone to talk to."

Mac sat up and gave him a pointed glare. "No shop talk though! You promised me that there would be no talk about work. I am going to hold you to that with a vice grip."

Harm just chuckled, the look in her eyes was positively pleading. "So, bringing up that I found some cut backs in the budget report that may help with mrrmrrrrmmm?" She'd placed a hand over his mouth covering his words.

Beneath her hand Mac could feel Harm's lips tighten into a smile and his eyes reflected mischief. "Look buddy boy. Unless you want this Marine to skin you alive, you'd better not bring up that budget report. If I have to hear one more time about the anomalies, I can not be held responsible for my actions."

"Yes, ma'am." He said and offered a mock salute which only afforded him a dirty look. "Have I ever told you how cute you look when you stare at me like that?"

"Cute won't get you anywhere." Standing up, Mac walked to the shelves and peered at some of the books.

He shrugged indignantly, "Well, it _did_ get me into your bed once."

Mac snorted. "No, an almost broken hand did." She grinned evilly at him and removed a book from the shelf. "Ooooh, it's a mystery book." She surmised, after skimming through half of the teaser in the first page.

Harm was going to make a dirty comment about books, especially those romance novels that many women read(,) but he chose to sit in silence and just watch. He found it cute when Mac had to stand on the tips of her toes to reach another shelf. The t-shirt that she was wearing had come up slightly exposing some skin. Though they had kissed, he still hadn't brought himself to admit that he was fine now. Completely fine, fully functional, the pipes were working perfectly, etc. He expressed his turmoil to his shrink, a fear of being unable to please Mac. Charlie Morgan's words were a common mantra. "It's like riding a bike." So, he'd gratefully accepted Mac's patience and waited, giving himself an ultimatum that would soon expire.

Though he found Mac more attractive than ever, Harm had managed not to act like a hormone driven teenager with his feelings. He'd taken them in stride and just allowed things to be easy between them. Now, a tiny piece of naked flesh was unraveling him and the last thing he wanted was to pounce like a caveman. "I think I'm gonna hit the sack. I'm tired."

Mac held a book in each hand, trying to decide which would be the better read. "That's understandable; you've been reviewing Caroline's cases on top of all that added work from Chegwidden."

"Right." With a huff, he stood and stepped up next to her. Harm's lips brushed Mac's ever so slightly. "Night, Mac."

It left her wanting so much more, but she was trying to be patient, no matter how much the waiting was starting to slowly unravel her. She had behaved, not allowed things to go too far and hamper his recovery. She didn't mind, but her traitorous body, that was another matter.

"Night." She watched him disappear into the bedroom and close the door behind him. Simple things were starting to set her off. During a briefing two days prior, she'd been trying to listen to Chegwidden when, out of the corner of her eye, she caught Harm licking his lips to moisten them. She nearly groaned right then and there and masked it by faking a sneeze. Since then, anything that Harm did was turning her on. "Suck it up, Mac." She sighed as she reached for a worn copy of Jane Eyre. Choosing to lounge on the sofa, she settled into the pillows and leafed through the pages to find chapter one.

It was about three hours later, close to midnight, when she put the book away and stepped into the bedroom. Quietly, she searched for her sleeping clothes, an oversized Washington Senators t-shirt and an old pair of sweatpants. Not the sexiest of bedroom attire, but she did pack one of those too, just in case.

Upon sliding under the covers, she felt Harm turn over and drape an arm around her waist. "I thought you'd be sleeping."

"I was." He said with a sleepy voice and then pulled her closer. "I just. . .I kinda liked us sharing a bed last time we did."

Last time was nice. But, Mac was thinking of a time before when they did a little more than just "share" a bed. "Me too." She placed a hand over his own knowing she'd fall asleep safe and content.

**0958 Local  
****Washington Monument  
****Washington, DC**

'_Americans are truly manic.'_ A light haired, fair skin gentleman thought as he stood twenty feet away from the Washington Monument. It wasn't his first visit to the United States, but he'd never ventured into the Nation's capital. Most with terrorist ties would be insane to do so, but he had the wonderful ability to blend in with any walk of life. If he had to, he'd even dress as a woman, as long as it got the job done. Shaking his head, he walked up the path to the entrance of the monument and waited patiently to be ushered in.

He took the ride up and immediately cringed. He hated heights, but Allah would get him through, Allah always would. Swallowing, he took several steps forward and walked towards the glass wall. With the camera he took several shots of the White House, the National Mall and the Lincoln Memorial. It was easier to handle the height though the viewfinder.

Somewhere out there, in a city created by infidels lived the two that he'd been looking for. It was quite easy to locate someone when you managed to steal a piece of their lives. In Paraguay, Harm had forgotten to remove a few things from his wallet. Things that were hidden under a small flap but held enough information to locate him. Finding the woman seemed to be a problem up until he found that the pair actually worked together. More over, they had been seeing each other!

It was quite a treat to sit outside of the apartment North of Union Station learning their ebb and flow. The woman never stayed. For that matter, when he'd spent time outside of the apartment in Georgetown, the man didn't stay either. That night had been especially wondrous. He'd ventured onto the second floor and found the proper apartment, number 201.

Quite the risk it was to plaster yourself against the door in hopes of hearing some conversation. Thankfully, no one had come in or out and those inside hadn't even known of his existence. He didn't hear much, just laughter and the sounds of some American movie. Two hours later, the man was gone, but not before kissing the woman goodbye.

He'd sat outside of that same apartment, watching as the pair packed the man's SUV with a few suitcases and a small cooler. He didn't need to follow and knew that they would return soon enough. So, when the coast was clear, he ventured back up to apartment 201 and, using picking locks, stepped inside. That would be his home for the evening, a way to get to know _her_ better. The woman, Sarah MacKenzie, fascinated him greatly. All of the things she'd done for the other one, the Naval officer, Harmon Rabb Jr. All of the things she'd done for a man that didn't seem to want her much at all just a few months prior.

Oh yes, he'd seen that too, their lack of communication, the sorrow in her eyes when he'd dared to shop at the same grocery store she went to. He'd seen her then, eyes veiled in sorrow. For a moment, when her eyes caught his, he feared discovery, but the contact lenses kept his identity safe. He didn't dare cross paths with her again, and was just content to watch and listen, when he could.

But that evening, he was allowed to touch as well. He touched her furniture, the walls, the pictures over the mantle. He cringed at the sight of Sarah and her lover. The pair looked good together; so good it disgusted him. Next, he stepped into the bedroom running his hand over the unmade bed that she'd slept on. He sat on the edge of the bed, picked up a pillow and taken in the scent that was Sarah MacKenzie. Clean, womanly, sweet and truly tantalizing. Allah wouldn't approve of her, at least not with her modern life. He would approve of her bloodline, the Persian heritage that she seemed to care so little about. "Stupid Americans!" He'd said then and tossed the pillow back on the bed.

For the rest of the evening he perused everything that was Sarah MacKenzie. It added to the information he'd already managed to find about her. One day soon, he'd make her see the error of her ways. She'd return to Allah and live her true life as a good woman and not the whore that she'd become.

"Sir, time's up." Turning around he found a park official standing just behind him. "You have to give others a chance."

He nodded, snapped another picture and quickly boarded the elevator. "Thank you, thank you very much." Next he was off to the Smithsonian to kill some time while he waited for Sarah MacKenzie to come home.

**1022 Local  
****Hubbarton, Vermont**

There was something to be said about the quiet of the woods and the freshness of the air. It seemed to be curative to Harm who had awoken from the best sleep he'd gotten in months. No nightmares, no tossing and turning, nothing but a restful sleep.

The spot beside him was empty and a little cold. It was obvious that Mac had been up for some time. Though Harm was grateful that she'd let him sleep in, part of him was a little disappointed in not waking up by her side.

After doing his necessities and brushing his teeth, Harm spied her through the glass window. She was standing outside, wearing a champagne colored, silk robe, leaning against the wooden railing, coffee mug in one hand as she stared towards the lake. Mac's hair was wet and slicked back and by the smell of honey and chamomile, it was obvious that she recently showered. The robe, he noticed, came just lower than mid-thigh. "Mmmm." That whole 'pouncing like a caveman' thought process was back. Truthfully, he wasn't tired last night, far from it. But he needed the space in order to prepare himself. The idea made him chuckle.

Harm's heart was hammering hard against his chest when he stepped outside. It was cool out and by the smell of atmosphere it was quite clear that heavy weather was nearing. Of course, Mac had heard him step outside and immediately smiled broadly. "Don't try to scare me, sailor. It won't work."

"I wasn't planning on scaring you, Marine." In all honesty, he was too busy checking out her lean legs to give a damn about much else. He stepped up behind her and placed his hands on the railing, trapping Mac. "I was just, admiring the view." He whispered into her ear and then placed a soft kiss on her shoulder. "And it's a very, very, very nice view."

The huskiness in Harm's voice made it quite clear that his admiration wasn't over the lake. Could he be trying to move them forward again? The possibility gave her a chill. "Mmmm. It is." She decided to play coy if only to see what it would lead to. Mac could feel his warmth behind her and when she turned, their mouths were just a few inches away. She glanced from his eyes to his mouth and the urge to kiss him was irresistible. Involuntarily, Mac licked her lips in anticipation. "Have you been up long?" She moved her head closer, inching towards him but Harm just smiled in a teasing sort of way.

Harm didn't answer her, but only kept watching her eyes dart between his own and his lips. Every fiber of his being was alive at that very moment and the explosive energy between them was growing by the second. He'd never met a woman that he wanted to kiss more than Mac. It had been painful to deny himself what he'd wanted for so long. To see her happy or even pretending to be happy with another man truly made his heart ache.

The waiting game, their dance, it needed to be over. Completely. He loved her too much to ever let her go again. "Harm?" She questioned when everything between them seemed to stand still. Mac could feel the heat, pulsing and radiating, but why hadn't he kissed her? "Why are you looking at me like that?" She said, self-consciously. He seemed content, if that smirk was any indication. His eyes were a blue grey combination which she'd only ever seen _that night_ in Paraguay.

"Because you're beautiful, Sarah." Harm said simply before leaning in and kissing her. It wasn't gentle by any means, but consuming, explosive and completely incredible. He felt her sigh deeply as if relief had washed over her. Then, just as the kiss had started to become a game of seduction, she pulled away.

Mac placed her hands on his chest, looking distraught. "Harm, don't."

"You _don't_ want me to kiss you?" He was confused, truly. Two seconds ago she was kissing him back with such fervor.

Sighing again, Mac tried to rationalize her sudden distance. "I do want you to kiss me. Very much. . .But it's not fair."

"Fair? What do you mean 'it's not fair?'"

As far as Mac knew, things were still not right with him. Sometimes, she'd catch Harm staring off into space. She knew he had nightmares of his ordeal because it was evident in the mornings when he stepped into JAG with dark circles under his eyes. Though she was glad that he was seeing Dr. Morgan, part of her feared that his need to see the shrink meant that he'd given up on ever being himself again. Yes, they were closer now, things were good and easy, but maybe things were good and easy because they hadn't forced the issue and the last thing she wanted was to force it with him and have to live with a breakup that would, quite surely, leave her scarred for life.

"It's not fair to you. . .I said I'd wait and I meant it. . .You are worth waiting for."

Harm felt a tingling sensation up and down his spine. The thought that, this time, they were willing to wait for each other was really heartwarming. He had been such a fool to not let her know what she was waiting for in Sydney Harbor. "It's not fair that you have to wait, Mac. . .I don't want you to wait." He whispered and leaned in to kiss her again. Mac didn't push him away, but simply accepted the kiss and allowed him to deepen it. Her lips parted slightly giving him entrance.

She shivered at his touch, when his hands roamed down her sides and to the sash of her robe. Harm tugged it lose and snuck a hand inside to touch her warm flesh. "Oh God."

"I want to touch you, Mac. . . To please you." He whispered between kisses to the nape of her neck. His warm breath sending another series of chills down her spine.

"I want you to touch me." Her breath hitched as the back of his fingers caressed her rib cage. "But, I want to touch you too." See, that has been her issue all along. If he was doing this seduction routine just to please her, something would be off. She wanted him to feel everything that she felt. It just wouldn't be fair if it was one-sided.

"I'm ready, Mac. I want you so bad I can't stand it anymore. . .No more waiting."

Those were the best words she'd ever heard. "Thank God." Their tongues dueled, hands ran over hot skin. They made love outside never letting go of each other.

Afterwards Mac rested her head on his shoulder, sighing deeply in satisfaction. She caught her breath and noticed that he was carrying just about all of her body weight. "Sailor, I think you can put me down." She raised her head from his shoulder and looked him directly in the eye.

Instead of answering, Harm just leaned forward and kissed her. He kissed her like their lives depended on it. Deep, intoxicating, searchingly. The kiss was so exquisite that Mac barely noticed that they were no longer outside and Harm had carried her to the bedroom.

"You're gorgeous, Sarah." He said after putting Mac down on her feet.

A blush crept into her cheeks as Mac shyly cast her eyes down. "You're not too bad yourself, Sailor." Her voice was husky, with a timbre that ran chills up his spine. "Come here. We need to make up for lost time."

He stepped forward, his long legs crossing the small distance with one movement. Strong arms wrapped around her, encircling her body in a cocoon of warmth and desire. Between kisses, Harm backed Mac towards the bed. She lay down, scooted to the center, and pulled him down onto her. The weight of his body on hers caused a zing of electricity. His eyes locked onto her own, a stormy blue green color that revealed his feelings. Not wanting to smother her, Harm lay on his side, just skimming over her body, admiring every shapely curve.

Once again, they were wrapped in pleasure and desire, giving each other's body and soul to one another.

An hour later, they lay together on the living room floor covered with sheets. Harm ran his hand down Mac's arm and down to her hip. "Your skin feels amazing."

"You're just saying that." She grinned and turned over to face him. "And it's nice that you say that."

He leaned in and brushed a kiss on her lips. It was impossible to avoid the proud satisfaction that Harm felt when she leaned into him, deepening the kiss. She made this little noise, almost like a whimper whenever his lips were on hers. Often, Mac would let out a satisfied sigh. There were so many little details that he was starting to learn and re-learn. One thing was for sure, Mac wasn't nearly as complicated as he thought. In truth, the one complicating things, was him.

"Sarah." Harm said as he cupped her cheek in his hand. He could feel the butterflies in his stomach flutter relentlessly. "I love you." Saying the words brought such a relief to him. It was as if a weight was lifted and a whole knew chapter in his life began. "I love you."

Mac's heart knew that he did, but her head was having trouble wrapping around some of the things of the past. It was ridiculous for her to doubt him, but how couldn't she when he didn't give her much to go on. She felt a tear slide down her cheek, which he caught with the pad of his thumb. "I love you too, Harm."

**September 26, 2005  
****0840 Local  
****JAG Headquarters  
****Falls Church, Virginia**

Mac stepped into the break room and made a beeline towards the basket on top of the microwave. She picked a blueberry muffin and removed the paper around it before taking a bite. "Morning ma'am." Bud said as he headed towards the coffee.

"Morning, Bud." Mac replied and then took another bite of the muffin and sighed in contentment.

Studying his superior, the Lieutenant found something that was particularly odd given the circumstances. Mac had a big case coming up and, for the most part, that meant that the Colonel would be in a. . .less-than-content mood. Not today. He noticed a beautiful sheen on her skin, a tint on her cheeks and a genuinely cheerful expression that baffled him. "You're in a good mood today, ma'am."

"Mmmmm." She nodded. "Yep. . .Today is a good day." And the week was even better. The cabin and the grounds around it were absolutely charming. Harm had taken her on a boat ride along the lake. In the afternoons they would sit by the dock, quietly enjoying each other's company. Then there were the nights. . .

Safe to say, that during those nights they'd managed to make up for missing time. Two days before they were supposed to leave, Harm had made the suggestion to head home early. It would give them the time to relax before going back to work. And relax they did, in her bed. The night prior, they'd gone to Harm's apartment and she was helping him unpack.

Mac chuckled when she remembered the little stowaway she'd found in his bag. "He came along on the trip?" She'd held up the teddy bear she'd given him.

To his credit, Harm didn't blush or seem embarrassed. He merely shrugged and took the bear from Mac, placing him in the center of the bed, between two pillows. "MacKenzie wanted to come along."

Under any other circumstances she would have laughed, but truth be told, she found it cute that he'd named the bear after her. "MacKenzie, huh?"

His smile was bright and honest. "Yes, Mac. I named the bear after you."

Snapping back to reality she heard Bud mention something about Chegwidden allowing Harm back on cases. ". . .and he'd start today. I bet the Commander will be happy to give the briefs a rest."

"Oh, you can be certain about that. Harm needs to do something challenging to keep him sane." She commented and finished off the muffin.

Bud poured himself another mug of coffee. "Good luck in court today, Colonel. . .I need to finish my report on the Collins article 32."

"Thanks Bud." Once Bud had stepped outside, Mac turned towards the coffee pot and then took a mug. She savored the smell of the hot liquid and smiled in contentment. This pot was definitely made by Petty Officer Jennifer Coates who'd taken over making the brew ever since Tiner had left JAG. The girl that she'd met almost two years prior was replaced with a smart young woman who made some damned good coffee. Not that sorry squid java that Sturgis, Harm and Bud would drink.

Speaking of Harm, She felt him the moment he'd stepped into the break room. If she could feel his presence before, now it was just intensified. He didn't even have to speak.

The sneaky squid came up behind her. But he wasn't sneaky enough. Smirking, she poured the sugar into her coffee and reached for a stir stick. Harm was watching her, Mac could feel the heat in his gaze. It was amusing, quite as amusing as to how easy it was to just get carried away in a moment's notice. While in court, she wasn't affected by his good looks and his charm. But when things were a little less formal (as informal as it could be when you were standing around, wearing a uniform in the JAG breakroom), it was easy to just feel. "I know you're there, I can feel you watching."

"I figured you could." He said in a husky voice and then moved up closer, his body brushing against hers ever briefly. "I am just trying not to ravage you at the moment."

Mac pretended that his comment didn't affect her, that it didn't cause a chill down her spine. "Oh yeah? Try harder. We're at work." She turned around and purposely brushed a hand against his own and then just stood there, eyebrow arched and cute grin in place. "My place or yours?"

Harm reached for a mug. "Yours." He poured the coffee in as Mac handed him  
the sugar.

"Is there a reason why, most of the time, we're at my place?. . .Not that I mind, but I always had these fantasies of you and I in your apartment." She'd been curious as to why they seemed to spend more time at her apartment than his. Even when they were just 'taking it slow' more often than not, they would wind up at her place.

"Hmmm. Fantasies, huh?" They were probably just as heated as the ones he'd had about Mac in her apartment. There was really a good reason why he preferred her place to his. Although Harm loved his loft, it was more of a bachelor pad. Mac's apartment was warm, homey and not as cold as his place. "I don't know, Mac. . .It's just, my place has a different vibe to it, you know?"

She swallowed down some coffee and grinned. "Mmm, You mean it's kinda like a bachelor pad?"

"Something like that, but. . .Yeah, something like that." He chuckled and leaned against the counter. He took a sip of the coffee, watching Mac over the brim of the mug. "Ya know, I was thinking." He stood straight and cleared his throat. This would be difficult, not terribly so, but enough to cause him to worry somewhat.

"Should I start to get worried?" She teased.

Worried? Maybe? With their relationship, he was never too sure how even their keel was. It was getting better, they had learned to talk, somewhat. His fear of doing something wrong and losing Mac is what prevented most progression. This moment was not any different. "Maybe it's early but. . .I mean. . .maybe we should. . .move in?"

"Together!?" She nearly choked on the coffee she'd just swallowed.

"I ah. . .well, it might be too soon. I mean, we only just figured out this relationship thing and with all of our past problems I can understand if you don't want to. In fact, just forget I mentioned it." He took a breath and ended his rambling with a sigh. "But, I'd. . . You and I, we've known each other for a long time. I think we've been dating without realizing that we were."

The same realization – the dating without dating – had occurred to her several years prior when she'd gone to Harm's place for dinner and found the table set with candles and flowers. Even when they were just having pizza, he'd make it a habit of pulling out the china, silver wear and the wine goblets. Now that she really thought about it, perhaps their whole relationship was an odd courtship of sorts. A trial by fire. Sure, they'd had their problems, but in the end, they always wound up together. And that meant something. "Let's talk about it later, tonight. At my place." She leaned over and placed a kiss on his cheek, then wiped off the lipstick. "Have a good day, Commander."

"You too, Colonel." He wasn't too sure if he'd won the battle or the war, but Harm sure liked the way Mac smiled and winked at him as she headed out of the break room.

"Something amusing, Commander?" Admiral Chegwidden asked as he stepped inside the small room to find one of his senior attorneys with a goofy grin on his face. Harm didn't have to say a word. "Oh. I see." AJ crossed his arms over his chest and sighed with mock annoyance. "Well, it's about time."

"Sir?" Often people wondered if Harm and Mac really were oblivious to their connection. The answer, of course, was yes. Harm's aloof expression wasn't quite convincing.

AJ just stared the younger man down. "Don't give me that crap, Rabb. Everyone here knows that you and MacKenzie had a _thing_."

Everyone?! "_Everyone_, sir?" He had the nerve to look horrified at the assumption.

Sighing, the Admiral reached for a muffin. "Just keep it out of the office, that's an order." He practically chuckled when Harm excused himself and nearly ran out of the break room. "I guess Hell finally froze over."


	19. Sweet Pandemonium

**Chapter 19 – Sweet Pandemonium **

**0632 Local  
****Mac's Apartment  
****Georgetown**

Harm awoke with a start, sitting up in bed swiftly and just as quickly wishing he hadn't. He felt like shit. Almost as if he'd been run over by a Humvee and then run over again, just for fun. Trying to focus on something, anything, was almost impossible. The last time he felt that way was when he'd knocked himself unconscious on the Hornet way back when. Mac had found him there, passed out. If she hadn't thought to come back for him, he'd been a roasted Lieutenant Commander.

_Mac!_

A dull ache at the base of his head served as a reminder, an unpleasant one. Harm placed a hand on the back of his head. He felt a sticky, crusty mess that must be. . . yes, it was. Blood. He held his fingers under his nose and assaulted himself with the familiar, metallic, smell. With great effort, he managed to get his body off the bed only to fall of the side and land on the floor with a thud. "Ooof. . .Damnit." He landed on _her_ clothes, still scattered around. "Oh God." And then he remembered everything. In sickening details, right down to the crunch of, what had to be, a tire iron, breaking his head. . .

The night prior he and Mac had strolled down the streets of Georgetown happy to just be. They'd gone for Mexican food and then some ice cream from a newly opened Ben and Jerry's shop. He never wanted the night to end. Moreover, neither of them wanted to head to work in the morning.

After their stroll they sat on the sofa, sipping coffee and watching Casablanca which was showing on public TV. Mac had her head on his lap and their hands were intertwined. It was nice, homey. "About moving in together, the answer is yes."

Harm had hoped she'd given in and opted not to push for an answer. "It makes me happy to hear you say that."

"I like this ease." She'd said, right when Boggart and Berman's characters met in Café Americain.

"Kinda feels like the past, doesn't it?" He'd recalled a time when things were comfortable between them. Uncomplicated, fun and easy. Somehow, they had returned to that, but added just a little more. Yes, to Harm, it was feeling comfortable and he liked that.

Mac chuckled and turned to look up at him. "We didn't sleep together in the past, Harm."

Ever the litigator, he had a point to make on that aspect. "Aaaactually, we did."

"Oh?" She sat up and scooted slightly away, putting just enough space so that she could look at him. For effect, she folded her arms across her chest.

Harm just grinned. "The first day we met, just a few hours later, you and I were sharing a spot inside a cave together. Oh! And how about when my plane had a mechanical? You and I shared another cave together. Then there was that time, when I got hit by that car, you stayed over. In fact, you and I have slept together a lot. . .without _sleeping_ together."

Alright, so he had a point, even though it wasn't quite the sleeping she was talking about. "Harm, there's sleeping and there's _sleeeeeping._ . .I was talking about the. . .the. . .sensuous type of sleeping." She placed a hand on his knee and purposely squeezed just a little bit.

He scooted closer to her and ran a hand up her leg. "Think we can get any of that _sleeeeping_ in tonight?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively as his hand continued to roam up her body.

"I could be persuaded, yes. . .However, we both need to be up early so better hurry." Mac got up quickly and tried to run into the bedroom only to have Harm grab her wrist and pull her back to him. "Haven't got all night, Flyboy."

"Baby, we have all of the time in the world." Harm stood up and quickly pulled her pass the living room and into the bedroom.

The evening was nice, special even. Somehow, making love to Mac in her bed gave their relationship a sense of permanent reality. "I love you, Sarah. . .So much." He'd told her as he hovered above, using his hands to support the weight of his body so that he wouldn't crush her.

Harm remembered seeing Mac's mouth move and her eyes widen with shock before the pain came at the base of his skull and darkness swallowed him. . .

"Mac?" He managed to sit up and lean his back against the side of the bed. A wave of nausea hit him as he struggled to come to his feet. "Mac?" Why wasn't she answering? Didn't she hear him fall? In the back of his mind he heard a voice, small and fragile, something that told him that she was missing. "Mac!" Harm yelled and quickly wished he hadn't as the back of his eyes felt like daggers were being pushed through.

Holding on to furniture, door jambs, door knobs and anything else he could find, Harm managed to walk into the living room. "Mac?" Everything seemed to be in place, but the TV, which he remembered leaving on, was now off. "Mac? Mac, where are you?" As the seconds ticked by, he felt a sickening sensation at the pit of his stomach.

Mac was missing.

Harm shuffled to the coat closet and found her jacket and tennis shoes were gone. He briefly considered her going for a run, but quashed the idea as the ache became more pronounced. He felt it then, a deep feeling of dread as he spun quickly, his eyes scattering across the room. And that's when he spotted it, a note that was sitting on the coffee table with something shining on it. Carefully, he picked up the note using the tips of his finger. This was evidence. Of what? Had a crime been committed? He wasn't sure, but it was still a good idea to be careful. The shiny thing, he noticed, was a beautiful diamond, much larger than the ones he and Mac were bartering with.

The note, written on an index card, wasn't from Mac but from the last person he believed they'd ever see again. In fact, Mac had promised him that Yourlsef Caled was dead. "Oh God." He croaked as the words _'I Have Her' _stared back at him. "Oh God!" The bastard signed the note too, left the initials 'YC.' "No!"

All the thoughts and emotions; the fears that he'd finally been able to deal with came rushing back to him. Except, this time, he didn't see himself on that torture table, he saw Mac. The notion had him running across the apartment and retching into the kitchen sink. He then turned on the water, cleaned his mouth and made a beeline for the nearest phone. But who to call? 911 wouldn't be much help and worrying his friends. . . "Webb." He dialed the spook's cell phone number and fought against a wave of vertigo that was threatening to knock him off of his feet.

(Clayton Webb picked up on the fifth ring. "Webb.")

"Clay, it's Harm. . ."

("Rabb, what the hell do you want?")

Harm cut him off quickly, he knew that the spook wasn't very fond of him, but at the moment, he didn't give a damn. "He took her. . . Caled took Mac."

(Webb was nearly one hundred percent certain that it wasn't true. It could not be true. As far as the CIA knew, Yourlsef Caled was killed outside of the US Embassy in Asuncion. "That can't be, Harm. We saw Mac shoot him. So did the Marines outside of that gate.")

"He's alive. . .He's alive and he has her! He left a note and. . .and a diamond." Sitting at the edge of the sofa, he glared at the gem, hating every thing it stood for. He squeezed his hand tightly, the excursion enough to drain a little more energy from him. "Webb. . .send . . .Ugh, call. . .me an ambulance." The phone slipped from Harm's grasp, his head felt like it was being split wide open. Thankfully, Harm was sitting on the sofa and only fell to his side when he blacked out.

**0650 Local  
****Jefferson Apartments  
****Georgetown**

Yourlsef Caled was truly an evil man, but then, he had a right to be. A person who sees his parents murdered at a young age can't help but be tainted by violence for the rest of his ) lives. He was a teenager when he began learning the rules of war at a terrorist camp. At the age of twenty, he decided that it was time to become his own master. He had a knack for getting people to follow him and an even greater knack for acquiring things he didn't have a right to posses.

His latest possession had nothing to do with the war against Americans. Nor did it have to do with payback for what had happened in Paraguay. Truth be told, Yourlsef Caled _wanted_ Mac and it was amusing to try and fight his basic, carnal desires. Others would have wanted to kill the woman, but during his recovery (the bullet had nearly killed him) all he could think of was the beautiful brunette who shared a heritage like his own. All he had to do was make her understand and if she didn't, pain had a way of convincing people. If she still wouldn't see the error of her ways, the punishment would be death. Though, to Caled, it wasn't a punishment, but a means to free a trapped woman.

From his vantage point, he could spy towards Mac's apartment and the bustle that was going on as the woman's lover was taken out on a stretcher. He smiled as they put him into a waiting ambulance and quickly drove off. Managing to procure this apartment had been nothing but pure 'luck.'

In the week that the pair had been gone, Caled befriended the landlord of Jefferson Apartments and given her an offer she couldn't refuse. With a bullet to the back of her brain, he was able to take the keys to all of the apartments and soon found one with the best vantage point. The couple that lived there was disposed of as well and all three bodies were neatly placed into the furnace and set ablaze. Torturing them would have been more enjoyable, but there really was no need for it.

He was curious about Harm and how hard he'd been hit over the head. Caled needed him alive in order to carry out a wondrous mission before he left Washington with a newly converted Sarah MacKenzie. It would also be equally pleasing to watch Harmon Rabb Junior squirm as his whore was molded and conformed to Caled's ways. Yes, this whole plan was going to be a real treat.

Once the commotion outside of Mac's apartment building started to die down, Caled crossed into the bedroom and to the sleeping woman whose wrists were bound to the iron headboard as she lay in bed. He felt a tightening on his groin, something that he hoped prayer would help get rid of. She would be his, but this wasn't the time or the place. Saying a brief prayer to Allah, he sat on the edge of the bed and just watched. Things happened in mysterious ways. The CIA could have sent someone else, but instead they had sent a captivating creature. Even at the compound he'd found himself drawn to her, but was forced to quash his feelings in order to get what he needed from Rabb.

Now, he had the time and he had the plans. Several plans and ideas that were interchangeable depending on the situation. If he'd managed to convert Sarah MacKenzie, that was icing on the cake. Longingly, he stared at the woman on the bed, wondering if he'd given her a bit too much tranquilizer after she tried to elude him. Caled sat on the edge of the bed, his body mere inches away from Mac's. He leaned forward and placed a hand on her forehead which he then ran down her cheek. With a finger he traced the scar at her throat, curious if it was caused by a scorned lover.

His fascination for the woman was beginning to affect him profoundly. so much so that he found himself leaning even further until he was close enough to kiss her. Caled could feel Mac's breath on his cheeks. He could smell the soft perfume that she'd used, its scent so intoxicating that he couldn't help himself anymore. It had been over a year since he'd last been with a woman and that relationship only lasted until she betrayed him and had to be disposed of. His lips caressed Mac's and Caled began to relearn the mysteries of women when he kissed her fully.

It was the pressure on her lips, unfamiliar and unwanted, that finally roused Mac from her slumber. Harm wasn't the one kissing her, of that she was certain. For a moment, brief and confused, Mac wondered if somehow it had all been a dream that she'd awoken from only to find someone else, not Harm in her bed. She took a deep breath and made to push the person off only to find her wrists were restrained. Panic surged through her and when her eyes flew open Mac was face to face with a nightmare. "Caled?"

"Yes, Sarah?" The man had the audacity to stare at her sweetly.

The moment she mentioned his name, a brief memory flashed. Mac hadn't seen the man but a shadow that had come up behind Harm. She'd felt the dead weight of Harm's body and then the bittersweet relief of it being removed. That's when she'd come face to face with Caled and attempted to pounce. It would have worked, had the sheets not been tangled around her. Seconds later, she felt the prick at her arm and the black oblivion that came with it. "You're supposed to be dead."

A sick, satisfied smile spread across the terrorist's lips. "You don't really want me to die, do you?"

Mac knew he was trying to suck her into a perverse game that had no winners but Caled himself. Her biggest worry was not for her own safety, but for the man who was now caught in the middle. "Where is he?"

"_He_ who?"

"Where is he?! I swear if you hurt him. . " She yelled only to be silenced by another kiss. Mac fought hard against it, but being bound halted any efforts. When he broke away, she stared back, repulsed and angry. The longing to wipe away the reminisce of his kiss was so overpowering. "Where. Is. _He?_" She punctuated, adding emphasis on the last word. The response came in the form of laughter. Honest, earnest laughter that enraged her to the core. If her hands had been free, she would have clawed at him, ripped him to shreds. "Where is he!!"

"Don't yell, Sarah." Caled said calmly, but with a sinister undertone. "I suggest, if you ever want to see your lover again, that you don't yell at me." Sighing contentedly, he ran a finger down the side of her face and down her neck. She was repulsed now, he could tell, but in time, she would learn. "I know all about you. . .I know about your past. . . Your heritage. I know more than that lover of yours."

Mac should have chosen a better response, but there was just nothing else to retort with. "Fuck you." She expected the slap, but hadn't anticipated just how much it would hurt when the back of his hand made contact with her cheek.

"Swearing is not nice. Is that the only thing you learn in America? How to be rude?" He made a clicking noise with his tongue, stood up and headed towards the foot of the bed. "Your lover, is just fine. . ." Caled stopped mid-sentence and chuckled. "Actually, no. . .he's not fine. I suspect he'll have a concussion. Tire irons will do that, you know?"

Mac cringed, her mind immediately going to the last concussion Harm had suffered. This wasn't something Harm needed. In fact, one of the doctors in Bethesda was very worried about his brain and what affects getting hit again could have. "You didn't have to hurt him."

"No, but he is bigger than me. Definitely more fit than I am. . .I am not so stupid to let a man like that run around loose." The attack on Harm was purely based on anger. If he hadn't walked in and seen him lying between Mac's parted thighs then maybe, just maybe, Harm would have only been the victim of a tranquilizer injection. "If he only knew how close you really are." He paced in front of the bed, wrestling with a curiosity that was astounding. Curiosity won out. "Is he the man of your dreams, everything you ever wanted?" Rather than answer, Mac looked away. "Does he please you?" Not that he actually cared. Pleasing women wasn't high in his agenda. "You don't have to answer, Sarah. . . I've spent the past week reading your diary. . .I know your secrets. . .And they tell me that you're his whore."

That struck a nerve that ran deep into her past, her teenaged years when her father used to say the same thing. Mac could never understand what would motivate a father to say such a thing to their child. _If_ it were true, maybe then it would have hurt her a lot less. but considering that her only intimate relationship had been with Christopher Ragle, the comment was inexcusable and completely inappropriate. "I am no one's whore, Caled."

"Ah, I hit a nerve. . .Interesting. . . Your father used to call you a whore, didn't he? Right when you met your husband, Christopher." He really had read her journals, right down to the nitty gritty details that stared back at him through a computer screen. It had been nothing but dumb luck to find so much information on Sarah MacKenzie in such a convenient package. Caled had made copies, allowing him to read the diary from the comfort of his new apartment. Walking towards a table, he grabbed a small stack of papers, peering at one of them in particular. _"How could a father call his child, his only child(,) a whore? What I never understood was how I could be his little princess one moment and the next mean nothing to him."_

Mac breathed deep as she felt the tears stinging her eyes. That was private, written a few years back when her relationship with Mic had failed. This wasn't just a violation of her personal property; it was a violation into her life. "What do you want from me?"

"You will see, Sarah." His answer was cryptic and rightfully so, Caled wasn't a man too keen on describing future plans. "Now, it's time for our first session."

"S-s-session?" Stammering, Mac took a breath, immediately worrying at his intentions. "I prefer to die than let you touch me."

"I'm not going to rape you, Sarah. . .You know better than that." No, his sessions had nothing to do with anything physical. "You will be educated in the ways of the Quran." He reached for a book on top of an armoire and came to a page he'd previously marked.

"According to the Quran, you can't take me by force."

A sick smile said otherwise. "I can if you were guilty of flagrant lewdness. Which you were when you spread your legs for a man you aren't even married to."

"I love him." Not that she had to justify her reasons for giving her body to anyone. Regardless of her heritage, she was free to do what she pleased and nothing would change that.

"But, does he love you? I mean, _really_ love you?" Caled placed the Quran back on the armoire and took the journal printouts instead. "From what I've read of your life, he couldn't seem to care about you enough to realize he'd broken your heart."

This was not a man that she wanted to cry in front of and yet, her emotions betrayed the façade that Mac was trying to put up. She understood now what Caled's plan for her was. He'd try to toy with her psyche, make her believe that Harm was nothing to her because of their past mistakes. Then, when she was broken and vulnerable he'd turn on the charm and she'd, somehow, come to. . . "No. You aren't going to get away with this."

"Sarah, dear. I already have."

With gritted teeth, Mac lay there, listening about a heritage she knew enough of to not fully integrate into her life. She knew the language but was just as content to follow the religious aspects. All she could think of was her grandmother and the sacrifices she'd gone through to become a headstrong woman. Her other thought was of Harm, the man she loved and was sure she'd never see again. _'I'm sorry.'_ Guilt had a way of rearing its ugly head and, at the moment, no one felt guiltier than Mac. If she hadn't taken Webb's offer for a mission. If she'd broken the rules and visited Harm while he was at the brig. If. ..

**Two Days Later  
****1925 Local  
****Georgetown University Hospital  
****Washington, DC**

A soothing, quiet warmth is what Harm awoke from. He could see a light, bright and annoying. shining in his eye. Hands were on his body, pressing at certain points that felt more like a violation than a medical examination. He shook and then sat upright only to be pushed gently into the mattress. "Commander Rabb. Welcome back."

Dry, oxygenated air was being forced into his nostrils, something that seemed eerily familiar. He cleared his throat and focused his attention on the man, wearing a smock and shining that damned light in his eyes a gain. "Stop that." He shoved the light away and sighed. "Am I at the hospital?"

"Do you remember what happened?" Another voice, a little too familiar for his liking, asked and Harm's eyes immediately snapped open. "Harm? Do you remember what happened?"

The details were fuzzy, but Harm could clearly remember the look in Mac's eyes before he was knocked unconscious. "Caled took her." Swallowing, he cringed at the sandpapery feel of his throat.

Webb breathed a sigh of relief. Within the last two days, the prognosis had been touch and go. Though his vitals were perfect, Harm had refused to wake up. During that time, Webb had managed to take apart Mac's apartment. He'd seen the diamond and tests had been run to remove the fingerprints from it. As he suspected, none had been found. What they did find was traces of hair with a different pigment on it which concluded that it was dyed. Promptly, the CIA staff went to work on different renditions of how Yourlsef Caled would appear if he changed his identity. "Doc, could you give us a minute." He waited for the medical man to leave the room and then pulled the guest chair next to Harm's side.

With a deep sigh, Webb crashed into the chair and loosened his tie. "I wish I could tell you that we know where he took Mac. I have our people searching everywhere. He can't get out of the country that easily with a hostage."

"If he hasn't left with her already." It wasn't too difficult to believe that Caled had means of extricating Mac and just leaving the country. Men like him had means and ways that went above and beyond that of a normal criminal. "What does he want with her?"

"You also think she's still alive?" If Caled had intended on killing either of them, Webb knew it would have been done in the apartment without any fanfare. The fact that he'd taken Mac and let Harm live made him believe that there was a bigger piece of the puzzle.

"Yeah. She's still alive. . .If he'd wanted to kill us. . ." He swallowed and then reached up and pulled the oxygen tube from his face. "Why let me live?"

As far as Webb could understand it, there was no reason to keep Harm alive. "Maybe he made a mistake and thought that he had killed you with that whack on the head. You lost a lot of blood so it's not that difficult to assume. . .Although, I think he did this as punishment. I wouldn't be surprised if he's been watching the two of you."

The thought gave Harm a shiver. "Oh God." He raised his hand to his face and scrubbed the stubble on his face which was starting to itch. "I gotta get out of here." Reaching his forearm, Harm yanked the IV needle out.

"Nononono. Stop that!" Webb yelped when Harm hopped off of the bed. He moved around quickly, attempting to serve as a human barricade. "Harm, you're not well. The doctors need to run some tests. You can't just run off."

"The hell I can't. Where are my clothes?" He spun around, then held on to the counter as a wave of vertigo hit. "Woah." Pinching the bridge of his nose, he blinked a few times as his brain found the equilibrium it had lost. "Help me get out of here."

"If I do and something happens to you Mac and the Admiral will do more than break my nose."

"Since when has that stopped you from doing things, Clay?" He glared at the agent, and then relented. He could see honest concern in the man's eyes and not just something put on for show. "Look, I know you and I haven't gotten along in a while. I know you _like_ Mac and that mission was some sort of attempt for you to get closer to her." Harm was not the least bit surprised to find that Webb didn't deny it. He wasn't angry at Webb or the CIA anymore. "I need you to help me get out of here. I need you to help me find her. I'm afraid of what Caled will do to her. I can't just sit around and do nothing, Clay. I can't."

Webb sighed and shook his head. "Fine. But first you need to wait for the doctor to check you out. I promise to get you out of here tomorrow morning."

That wasn't soon enough, but with the headache that was pounding in his brain, it seemed reasonable enough. "Alright. Tomorrow morning."


	20. Pain Redefined

**And we're moving right along. Chappie 21 will be up soonish!! It's Cliffy time:D**

**Enjoy,  
J.**

**Chapter 20 – Pain Redefined**

**0445 Local  
****Jefferson Apartments  
****Georgetown**

Sleep was a good thing. Not only did it help recharge your body, but it was also a good outlet into forgetting where you are. Mac opened one eye and peaked around, the curtains were drawn and the darkness of the room made it difficult to tell the time. Her internal clock wasn't working at the moment. Not that she minded, there was nothing worse than being trapped somewhere and knowing, with a hundred percent certainty that the minutes were slowly trickling by.

The need to use the restroom was slightly annoying but not too much. Instead, she flipped to her side and curled into fetal position. She was moderately surprised to find that Caled had undone her restraints. That could only mean one of two things a) he was sitting in the room with her or b) he found a way to monitor her. For her sanity, Mac preferred the second scenario. If Caled was in the room her slumber would have been interrupted with more of the Quran. He had not managed to break her and Mac was not the type to break easily. Through the years both with the Marines and in her past life, she'd managed to build a barrier. One that Caled would never, ever get through.

After reading, he would pause and try to put the text into his own twisted belief. All it served to do was alienate her more from him. Mac didn't care about that religion though she respected that it was part of her heritage. Her parents had raised her as a Catholic and though she didn't actively practice any religion, she felt more comfortable with the Catholic doctrine.

So, while he babbled on, Mac turned her thoughts to something else – rather – _someone_ else. '_Harm, please be alright._' It had worried her to no end that he'd suffered another head injury. The doctor at Bethesda had warned him that the next blow could cause permanent damage or put him in a coma. Neither was a scenario that she wanted to consider, not for Harm. That had been the most difficult part of her current predicament – the worry for the man that she loved.

Caled didn't understand that kind of love, anyone who did would be kinder. Instead, during his monologues about the Quran, he'd often pause to degrade her. If she wasn't a whore then she was an infidel. The worst, the one that cut to the core, was a mention of her being a 'barren wench.' She couldn't be barren and yet, the things that Maria had told her in Paraguay had brought awareness to Mac. She wasn't actively trying to get pregnant; the want to have a baby needed to be talked through with the father and she and Harm hadn't quite gotten there yet.

Gently, she shifted in the bed and opened both of her eyes. Her internal clock chose that particular moment to return. It was five am and as far as she could gather it had been two days since her capture. Was anyone searching for her? If Harm was alright, she knew that he'd search the ends of the Earth. But, if he was injured, then what? What would be her fate? Death?

She cringed at the thought and sighed deeply. If it came to that, Mac only hoped that she was able to figure out what exactly Caled wanted. He couldn't have possibly come back _just_ for her. There had to be something else to his plan and she was possibly a bonus. What ever it was, she had a sinking feeling that Harm was also part of the equation. "Ugh, damn."

Unable to continue holding back her bodily functions, she stood up and headed for a door on the left side, correctly identifying the bathroom. She did her necessities and even used the toothpaste and her finger to "brush" her teeth. The reflection staring back at her seemed familiar but exhausted, hardened. "Sarah, there you are!" Caled's intrusion startled her. "I did not give you permission to move from that bed. Did you not learn anything?"

Before she could utter a witty comeback, Caled roughly grabbed her arm and then hauled her towards the bathtub which was filled with water. "I was going to draw you a bath, Sarah, but because of your insolence you will have to be punished."

Mac barely had time to take a breath as she was shoved under the cold water. Water rushed into her lungs and the urge to take a breath was over powering. She shook hard, fought against the hand that shoved her so far down, her forehead touched the bottom of the tub. She was drowning, choking, agonizing, and when Mac was pulled out of the water, it took a few seconds before her lungs remembered to breath.

A rush of water and air came into her lungs, the intrusion making her cough up all of the water she had swallowed. Her stomach spasmed and her body doubled over as she retched more water out of her system. Just when she believed that Caled would let her rest, his hand grabbed a handful of her hair and before she knew it, she was drowning again. The first round had knocked the fight out of Mac and this time, after Caled had successfully brought her to the edge of death, he dropped her next to the tub, her body crashing with a loud thud.

"Next time you won't be so careless, Sarah." Caled tossed a towel at her and then leaned against the counter. "Clean yourself up."

Mac lay curled on her side, trying to catch her breath. She reached for the towel but lacked the strength to dry herself. That act landed her a kick to her ribs. "Ah!!" She yelped and tried to curl up to prevent another blow. "Stop!"

Caled grabbed a fistful of hair and raised Mac up. "Don't ever yell at me, Sarah." Without warning, the back of his hand connected with the side of her face, his ring splitting her lower lip. "You will learn to behave properly one way or another. Now, CLEAN UP!"

Trembling in anger and fear, Mac took the towel and proceeded to clean herself and then the floor which was drenched. Wet, cold and angry she then stood before Caled awaiting any other instruction. She wasn't going to bend, but if it meant keeping her safe and alive, at the very least, she'd pretend. "Forgive me."

"I'll consider it. For now go find something dry to put on." He helped her out of the bathroom, putting his evil terrorist tendencies to rest as he became the epitome of a perfect gentleman. "I'll step outside as you dress."

Caled kept the bedroom door open, leaving him to see when Mac found a pair of clothes that were two sizes too big on her. She'd chosen a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. Moving towards the balcony, he glanced out surprised to see a Taxi stopping outside of Mac's apartment building. It was even more surprising to see one Harmon Rabb Junior stepping out. "Allah truly is with me." And in the morning, his plan of destruction would start to take form with two American military officers at the forefront. One would soon be his wife, the other, his accomplice.

**0845 Local  
****Mac's Apartment  
****Georgetown**

"I can't tell you that I'm sorry, Webb. I'm not. I couldn't sit in that damned hospital for another hour. I just couldn't." Harm sat on the couch at Mac's apartment, his head being supported by his hand as he planted his elbow on an armrest. His body didn't like the decision he'd made when he walked out, against Webb and the Doctor's orders. According to the staff, more tests needed to be done and he had to spend several more days of bed rest.

So Harm had waited until the evening, when the medical staff was smaller. He changed into some civvies that someone had brought and walked out. No one was the wiser except for the guard outside of the door who he knocked out with one punch. "I understand that Agent Malone is upset, but I'll make it up to him. A buddy of mine can get tickets for a Senator's game. Front row. . .Webb, Webb. . .Calm down."

("Calm down? Calm down he says!" Clayton Webb was beyond furious though he really wasn't sure why. It was no surprise that Harmon Rabb Junior refuse to follow his orders and stay at the hospital. Not that Clay could really blame him. "Look, Rabb, Caled took Mac, do you want to be next?")

"If it helps find her, yes." It was uncertain what the terrorist's motives were. No clues had been discovered that could pinpoint what Caled's next move would be. Harm was prepared to be Caled's next victim, which is why he was sitting on Mac's couch. "Have you found anything out?"

(The CIA agent sighed deeply. He knew Harm well enough to realize he needed to give up. "Not much of anything. Caled has not been seen anywhere. We have the border patrols in high alert and Miami International Airport as well since most South American flights originate from there. Look, Harm. . .We're quite certain that . .that he's already taken Mac out of the country.")

He shut his eyes tightly and tried to ignore the pang against his chest. "Okay, keep me posted." With that Harm hung up the phone. He brushed a hand over his face and sighed deeply. The idea of Caled taking Mac out of the country was not one that he wanted to entertain. For some reason, he knew she wasn't gone. Since he arrived at her apartment, the overwhelming feeling that she was near was almost threatening.

Groaning, he stood up and walked over to the balcony which was angled towards The Jefferson, the apartment building directly across from Mac's. There was something about that building that caught his attention. "What the?" He noticed something shiny that was luring him like a worm on a hook to a fish. The shine was enough to bother his eyes

Harm rushed towards Mac's desk and opened up a drawer to pull out a pair of binoculars which he trained to the building across the street once he arrived back at the balcony. It wasn't out of curiosity, but more over a nagging sensation that compelled him to take a peak. The bright light shined, reflected by the sun. It was so strong that it blinded him momentarily. He focused on the area, a balcony and through its French windows the object shined again. With a couple more adjustments of the magnifier he saw it, dangling from a necklace in all of its luminous glory. A diamond.

His hands shook, heart raced as he considered the implication. Mac hadn't been taken away, no, she was right there, across the street, being held by a madman. He was sure of it. Rushing through the apartment, he found one of Mac's pistols and proceeded to load the rounds into the clip. He cocked the weapon, put on the safety and tucked it into his jeans at the small of his back. Next he pulled on a brown corduroy jacket.

To his credit, he didn't rush out at once, instead he tried to create some sort of plan. The thoughts of contacting Webb were squashed. He knew how the CIA operated and it was a cinch that they would allow both him and Mac to be killed in order to keep Caled alive. And, as with all military hostage situations, there would be no negotiations.

In the end he opted to go alone. It was uncertain if Caled had bugged the phones and if he had, he would know if Harm called for back up. Harm shoved his car keys into his pocket and then took a final look out of the window. From the area of the balcony he calculated that it was on the second floor, just like Mac's. The apartment number he could find once inside the building.

When he got outside of Mac's apartment, Harm didn't immediately run across to the Jefferson. Instead he headed up the street leaving the Lexus parked behind Mac's 'vette. To anyone watching, he would appear to be taking a stroll. Then, once two blocks away from the buildings, he went up a different block.

Squatting behind a vehicle, he chose to stop for a moment and just watch. Patience wasn't always his best of virtues, often his impatience had led him to do silly things. This time, Mac's life was forcing him to be more cautious. And yet, Harm was sure that certain persons would agree that he wasn't cautious enough. "May I help you?"

Spinning around, Harm came face to face with the barrel of a 9mm pistol. "I. . ." Sporting a confused expression, he stood up straight and raised his hands up in surrender.

"You don't recognize me, do you?" Caled discovered his ability to blend in a little under ten years ago when a disguise had gotten him past security in Heathrow. Ever since, he'd perfected it down to a science. "Of course you do, Commander. . .Now, let's get moving."

"Caled?" Webb had mentioned the terrorist being a master of disguise, but he never fathomed it would be _this_ easy for him to just become someone else. "Where's Colonel MacKenzie?"

A malevolent laugh sounded behind him. "I knew it couldn't take you too long to figure it out. . .Sarah is just fine, Commander. . .In fact, she'll soon be mine."

Harm's breath hitched, his muscles all tensed as the want to spin around and beat Caled to a pulp coursed through him. The feel of the pistol's barrel against his back was the only thing that stopped him. "Easy, Commander. I know you want to 'beat me up', as you Americans would so colorfully put it. . .I'm afraid that I won't be giving you that chance though. Now, up the steps." He was pulled to the back entrance of Jefferson Apartments.

So much for trying to figure out the apartment number, Harm was getting an escort. He waited quietly as Caled used a key to open the main door. His silence, however, came to a halt when they stepped into the elevator. "So what strings did you pull to get that apartment?"

Caled just chuckled. Americans were so naive. "A better question would be – 'Who did you kill'?" He found Harm's shocked expression quite humorous. "Oh, Commander, do you know how difficult it is to move into a flat on this side of Washington? Quite impossible really. Plus, since you and Sarah spent _so _much time in Georgetown, you made the decision for me. . . It's apartment 204 on the right."

Harm mentally prepared himself for what he was going to find and still, finding Mac tied to a chair, her face bloody and bruised was worse than a punch in the gut. "Mac." He rushed to her side, his hand gently cradling her face. The duct tape on her mouth prevented her from speaking, but her eyes, their silent conversation spoke for her. Without asking, he removed the tape from her mouth, cringing when she winced in pain. "Mac."

"No!" Mac screamed as she saw Caled wind up and prepare to strike Harm over the back of the head. He stopped in mid-stride glaring at her in anger for the latest outburst. "Please, don't hit him. . .You don't need to."

Not a man to take orders, Caled struck Harm right on the center of his back. The force was enough to wind him and send his six foot four frame to the ground. His next move, a hard slap to the right side of Mac's face, dictated his role. "Let me set some rules, Commander. You do what I say, nothing more, nothing less. Sarah. . .we spoke about your outbursts. Or would you like me to remind you with more time underwater?"

Mac shook her head and opted not to utter any other words. She didn't have to, the concern that showed in her eyes was already making their captor upset again. She lowered her eyes to Harm who was now laying on his back, trying to study the surroundings. For her efforts, a punch was administered to her gut. "Stop looking at him!" Caled ordered as he waved the gun just inches away from her face. "Have I taught you nothing?"

For whatever reason, Mac chose to become defiant. She ignored the terrorist's order and glanced back down at Harm who was shaking his head. "I love him and I will never submit to you."

All of Harm's nightmares came rushing back in a heartbeat. The things he'd finally forgotten, the torture in Paraguay came rushing back. Only, this time, he wasn't the one getting hit, it was Mac and his worst nightmare was becoming a reality. A reality that he was helpless to stop.

"We'll see about that" Caled pointed the gun at Harm and urged him to get up. "Sit in the other chair, Commander." When he did, Caled took the duct tape and used it to restrain Harm to the chair. "I was hoping that Sarah would realize her full potential." He began in an almost theatrical manner. "However, it's obvious that your American lifestyle has corrupted her beyond any means of repair. So, I am going to give the two of you a little time alone. When I come back it'll be time for us to negotiate." Caled took a jacket that was draped over the kitchen table and slipped it on.

"Don't try to escape, the door will be wired with an explosive. And don't bother trying to make a phone call, the lines have been cut for the past week." With that, he took his weapon, slipped in into a holster at the small of his back and then he left the apartment. It was a common thing for Caled to do – leave the captives alone. It was a method of psychological torture which appealed to him greatly.

Mac waited for a moment to speak, hoping that he'd truly left them alone. "Harm, you can't let him use me against you. Promise me. Promise me that he won't use me against you."

He was never one to break promises, but this one Harm just couldn't keep. "I can't let him hurt you."

His stubbornness, something that Mac often admired, had no place when captured by terrorists. "Wounds heal."

"And if he kills you?"

She sighed deeply, within the last couple of days death hadn't been too far from her mind. In all honesty, it was preferable to die than to spend more time hearing Caled's theories on life. "Then I won't feel pain anymore."

"Goddamnit Mac! Cut that Butch and Sundance fantasy you have. This is _real._"

"I KNOW. . ." She yelled back at him, tears streaming down her eyes. In truth, that Butch and Sundance crap was just a spur of the moment thing, something that was said during a trying experience.

They sat silently for a few minutes, each of them concentrating on the issue and how to tear it apart. In the end, only one thing made sense to Mac. "Harm, please, this isn't about you and me anymore. We don't know what he has up his sleeve, or what he wants us for. We took an oath to serve and protect."

"I hadn't thought about that." He said with a dry chuckle. In truth, he hadn't thought much about anything but getting him and Mac out alive. Now he realized just how big it all was. "I don't think he realized that he's kidnapped two lawyers."

"Not just two lawyers. A Marine and a Navy pilot." They hadn't heard him come in, but Caled was standing there, with a sick expression holding what appeared to be a flight suit.


	21. Pain Redefined Part 2

Cliffy! That's yer warning! Muahahahaaaa!

Jackie - Overworked and slightly paid. ;)

**Chapter 21 – Pain Redefined Part 2  
1000 Local  
Jefferson Apartments  
Georgetown**

"You _are_ a pilot, yes?" In one hand he held Harm's flight suit, one that he'd taken from the duffle in Harm's SUV. Caled stretched out the suit to show off the leather patch with Harm's name and rank. "What do you fly?" Not that he had to ask, Caled knew more than what he led on.

Harm and Mac traded a look of horror, somehow realizing that Harm's expertise would be the catalyst to send Caled's plans into fruition. A military jet, with so many capabilities in the hands of a terrorist in the one city that meant the most to the United States. "Screw you."

Caled dropped the suit and hurried across the room. Without much fanfare he slugged Harm in the gut causing him to double over in pain. "You fly F-14s and are being trained to fly the F-18." He slugged Harm again, earning a yell from Mac who was terrified at watching Harm suffer again.

"What do you want from us?" Mac begged for an answer. Between his trying to transform her and Harm's capture, her thoughts were muddled at to what his intentions were. Parts of his plan couldn't have been calculated and yet, maybe _that_ was his plan. "What do you want from us?"

Turning away from the pair, Caled walked back to Harm's suit, picked it up and placed it on the arm of the sofa. He then removed the gun from the small of his back and settled into the cushions. "You nearly killed me, Sarah." He undid his shirt and pulled it open, showing off the brownish skin which began at his chest, where the make up on his face and neck ended. There he wore three dark circles like an armor, one of them close to his heart, the other two at spots along his torso. "At first, I wanted to kill you. Then, in a dream, Allah came to me and said that I needed to mold you and marry you, Sarah. That I needed to save you from men like him and this American way of life which is robbing your virtue."

Reaching inside his jacket pocket, he produced a sheet of paper. Mac knew very well what the paper held and turned away in embarrassment as the worst moments of her life were recounted by a madman. "_June 3, 2001 – Not even millions of miles away, stuck in the Indian Ocean, am I able to stay away from Harm. He followed me out here, seemingly wanting to talk about that night which gave me hope and then stole it away again. I asked him, point blank, if he'd be willing to give her up for me and like a true litigator, answered my question with a question. It finally made me realize one key thing that my hopeful heart needed to know – there will never be an 'us' and Harmon Rabb Junior does not love me. He wants me and needs me to an extent, but that which I need the most from him, his love, his heart, will never be mine. Maybe it's time to give up on the hope of my one true love. It doesn't exist."_

Mac's lips quivered as she tried to fight the urge to cry. It was one thing to have her deepest secrets read to her, but to have Harm hear it all was utterly heart wrenching. They had discussed several things about the past, but never in such depth. The pain in Harm's eyes as he looked at her was almost surreal. He lowered his head in shame, realizing for the first time just how hurt she'd been while he tried to figure out his next move in regards to their sometimes tumultuous relationship. "I'm so sorry, Mac."

"He's sorry, Sarah. Did you hear that?" Caled tossed the sheets on the table and sighed. "After reading this, it surprises me how you could just turn the other cheek. How you could let him seduce you into his bed like a whore."

"She isn't a whore!" Harm yelled, his chest heaving in anger. He tried hard to get loose , ignoring the ache in his heart which was almost immobilizing. "She isn't a whore. You sick son of a bitch."

Caled just laughed at their predicament, taking pleasure on seeing the both of them squirm. "She acts like one. Spreading her legs for any man who gives her the time of day." He reached for the sheets again, his face taking a hard edged look of determination. "Shall I read the section where she speaks about her encounters? Where Sarah herself describes how horrible she felt afterwards?"

Harm shook his head. "No." He understood what Caled's approach to the situation was. A psychological torture that would break or bend the individual. It was a method to motivate him into whatever sick idea he had planned. And a secondary method to making Mac believe whatever he wanted, something that he knew would never occur. At the very least it was putting a stress on their relationship which wasn't needed or wanted. "What do you need my flight suit for?"

The terrorist knew that someone would get curious at some point. He hadn't realized it would be Harm, in his mind women were weaker and easier to break. Then again, Americans were truly confusing. His plan had been long underway ever since he'd spotted a certain vehicle when he was 'vacationing' in Washington. "There is an F-14 Tomcat sitting on the tarmac at Andrews Airforce Base. I want you to steal it and crash it into the White House."

"You're crazy if you think he's going to do that." Mac stated with certainty, glancing towards Harm who was staring at her in shock.

Caled made a strange face, a cross between annoyance and frustration. "Sarah, another outburst?" He controlled his rage and opted not to strike her again. The last thing he wanted was a bride with more marks on her face.

"Another and there will be more because I won't succumb to you!" She yelled, bracing for a slap that did not come. Instead, Caled just stood inches away from her with a raised arm shaking and ready to strike.

"Neither will I." Harm said, knowing with certainty that he would have to endure more pain at the hands of a terrorist. What he didn't realize was that Caled's plan was worse than torture.

Without a word, Caled retreated to the bedroom and returned with a hijab that he tossed at Mac's feet. "I am going to release you Sarah and you will put that on." He undid the tape and then stood, holding the knife, pointed edge next to her throat.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Harm's wrists were aching from trying to get loose. The harder he tried, the more they would tear at his skin with no signs of breaking. Disgusted, Mac fought the urge to pull away "Damnit, Caled! If you hurt her I'll. . ."

Ignoring Harm, he ran the knife over her chest. "Today you will become my wife and your lover will watch as I claim you as mine."

Mac understood why he hadn't just raped her earlier. He was waiting for the right opportunity to take her body. No man would be able to witness the woman he loved be violated by another. Knowing what she did about Harm, it would be his undoing. "You can subject me to this sham of a marriage. And you can take my body, but you'll _never_ have anything else. You'll never have my heart or my soul, it doesn't belong to you."

Taking a knife, Caled pointed it at Mac as stood a fraction of an inch away from her, one hand on her hip and the other holding the knife dangerously close to her skin. He leaned forward placing a sloppy kiss on her lips. Mac forced him away from her, but it only earned another slap which had knocked her onto the floor.

As he made to pounce, Mac turned to the side and used the ball of her foot to kick his shin. The movement made Caled crash into the nearby coffee table. The gun scampered in one direction, but he was still holding the knife. "Get the gun, Mac!" Harm yelled.

Scrambling to her feet, Mac made for the pistol, dodging Caled's legs when he extended them in order to trip her. She did not expect for him to recover so quickly and was shocked to find him reaching for her legs. His hand held her in a firm grip and with one quick tug, her feet fell from under her. Mac hit the ground hard and still managed to reach for the pistol.

Flipping over, she pulled the trigger, but the shot only hit the terrorist's shoulder. Caled groaned in agony, the wound only adding to his anger. He grabbed for Mac's hand which he slammed hard against the entertainment center. Her traitorous reflexes snapped into action and the pistol fell away to the floor. "Insubordinate woman!" Caled hit her once, twice and wound up for a third, when Harm's voice cut through the anger and into his mind.

Harm had been yelling through the whole ordeal as he prayed for some sort of miracle. His wrists were raw from the tape and the agony of being so helpless was strangling him. Knowing what Caled's plans were for Mac was the last straw. He'd given into the terrorist's plot, or at least appear to until he could find a better plan. "Stop! I'll do it."

"Harm!. . .No!" The end of the game was near and it appeared that the good guys wouldn't win, not this time. Mac tasted metal in her mouth, blood from her teeth scraping the inside of her cheeks. She coughed hard, spitting up the red fluid. Her eyes were filled with tears which only multiplied as the man she loved was put in such a precarious situation.

"Sarah, I'm sorry. . .I can't let him do that to you." He glanced away in shame, his eyes focusing on the flight suit draped over the sofa. A hero who couldn't save the person he cared most about. Truly ironic, then again, not all cartoon superheroes had a happy ending, tragedy was more compelling. "I'll do it Caled, but I want two things in return."

Caled took the pistol and tucked it into his pants at the small of his back. Cocking his head to the side, he thought about the request, a silly thing to do for someone in such a situation.. "You aren't in a point to negotiate, Commander."

"Consider it a dying man's wish. . .At the very least, listen to my request."

Ah, curiosity was a deadly thing. "Alright, I'm listening."

"Give Mac and me a few minutes to say goodbye and then you have to let her go. Set her free." It was reasonable, there weren't any catches to his request and, at the very least, Mac would still be alive.

"Harm." She wanted to object, to remind him of his duty, but there was something in his eyes that Mac saw, another silent conversation that led her to believe that he had something up his sleeve.

"Mac, please. . .There's no other way."

Caled took the flight suit and tossed it at Mac. "Alright." He then motioned to the bedroom. "You have five minutes; it should be enough for you to dress." Using the same knife, he removed Harm's restraints. He pulled Mac up to her feet and assisted her into the bedroom, all the while holding the knife dangerously close and next to areas that would cause the most damage if pierced. "Five minutes."

Once the door closed behind them, Harm rushed to Mac who was sitting at the edge of the bed. She'd been trying her best to remain stoic, but he knew that look in her eyes. "You can't do it, Harm."

"I'm not planning on it." Gently, he used his fingers to examine her face and all of the angry marks. The bruising was there as well, fighting to overcome her beauty. "I'm gonna try to get out of this, somehow."

Mac placed the flight suit on the bed. "I hate it when you fly." She traced one of the F-14 patches with her finger and sighed.

"I know." The last time Harm had been so apprehensive about wearing the suit, had been months after his ejection over the Atlantic. That plunge had taken a huge part of him and sometimes he was sure he'd never recover. Turning towards a mirror behind the door, he zipped up the suit and then smoothed his hand over the patch with his name.

"Don't do anything stupid in order to save me. . . Promise me you won't."

The greatest sacrifice anyone in the service would give was supposedly their life. But, what if the life of another hung in the balance? Reasonable, mathematical fact would state that it was more feasible to allow one person to die in order to save millions. It was a law that all service men and women lived by but seldom had to put to use. Now, as Harm stared at Mac, all of his past missions slammed back at him with a vengeance. Maybe this was punishment for all of the lives he'd taken as a pilot? Time and time again he was destined to lose everything he loved.

And if he died; what then? What hopes did he have in hoping that Caled would keep up his end of the bargain? "I promise." Harm never broke promises and the tears in his eyes confirmed that this one wouldn't be broken either. "I love you, Sarah."

"I love you, Harm." Mac felt it, the weight pushing down on them; crushing what could have been. It was her fault, letting a spy use her patriotism to join a mission that wasn't for her. In the end it nearly cost her life and the best friend she ever had. Now it looked to be getting them both killed. She stood and kissed him, pouring all the passion and pain that was etched onto her very soul.

Caled pushed the door open at the right time. The disgust in finding the pair wrapped up in a kiss churned his insides. "Time's up." He walked up behind Mac and began to tape her wrists behind her back. "Commander, hands up and step outside." He shoved Mac forward and as she stumbled nothing but a chair to break her fall. "Oops."

Harm was at her side in an instant, trying to help her sit up when Caled shoved the barrel of a gun into his ribs. "Easy!"

"Get up, Commander." With the pistol, he motioned Harm away from Mac and pointed towards the door. "Time to go, Commander. Oh, and I hope you don't mind, we're taking your vehicle."

Cautiously, Harm moved towards the door, keeping himself in between Caled and Mac. His hands were raised in surrender. "You do know that this isn't going to work, right? I can't just waltz up to a fighter jet. This isn't Russia."

"I have more than enough faith in Allah to know that he will guide you to complete my mission."

"You can't force me to kill innocent people, Caled. I won't do it."

"No? We'll see about that, Commander." Intentions change from time to time, but none more so than those belonging to Yourlsef Caled. If he was stuck, he'd find a way out of the mess whether right or wrong. Allah would appalled his grand schemes, proud of the warrior which chose to fight the infidels. This time, the solution was automatic. "Here's your motivation." His arm extended and the gun he was holding was now pointed towards Mac. She hadn't seen the shot coming and neither did Harm. Only a loud sound and the blood stain on her shirt indicated what had transpired.


	22. Pain Redefined Part 3

Aaalrighty! Very sorry for the delay in these chapters. Too much work getting in the way. Anyway, no clifhangers on this one. Wow!! I decided to be nice. It's also a pretty longish chapter. And chapter 23 will be posted soonish as well. Shouldn't be much more to this one, just few things to tweek the ending is ready.

Thank you for your patience!

Enjoy!  
Jackie

**Chapter 22 – Pain Redefined Pt. 3**

**1045 Local  
****Jefferson Apartments  
****Georgetown**

The first time Harm's life flashed before his eyes, he was sixteen in a Laotian jungle, watching as dozens were slaughtered. It altered him for life, hardened him. Now, it was the same occurrence, though it wasn't his death he was concerned about.

Why did he believe that they'd be able to get out of this alive? Perhaps it was their uncanny knack of surviving, even in the direst of circumstances. He never expected Caled to shoot Mac. In retrospect, maybe it was something that he should have considered when he was worrying about Caled touching her body.

"No!" Harm crossed the apartment in lightning speed. He came down to his knees before Mac and his hands began to search for the wound. The sensation of something hard and hot against the back of his head, prevented him from getting farther.

"Get up, Commander. It's time to go." The terrorist ordered without so much as a concerned tone of voice.

"You sick son of a bitch, what makes you think I will help you now?" He pressed a hand to the right side of Mac's chest, feeling the hot, red liquid meeting his skin. Mac's eyes were glazed over and an odd look of disbelief and fear lingered in their chocolate depths.

Caled held the gun at an odd angle, shoving it up against the base of Harm's skull. "Because, the moment this is finished, I will make sure that Sarah gets the medical help that she needs. You have my word on that."

"As if your word means anything to me?" He turned to Mac and mouthed that he was sorry. Thankfully the shot hadn't immediately killed her, but the bleeding was enough to drain the life from her in less than an hour. "We _can't_ leave her here."

The insolence of the couple was starting to become a real nuisance. Sighing dramatically, Caled moved away from Harm and came down close to Mac. He pressed the pistol against the side of her head, jamming it painfully against her skin. "Would you like me to silence her permanently, right here, right now? The offer I am giving you, Commander, is quite gracious. It gives her a fifty percent chance of living."

Mac took a ragged breath, "No. . .Harm. . . .No." Her words came out as a whisper, the pain on her chest too much for her to handle. If she thought being shot in the thigh was bad, this was pure torture. It was difficult to catch her breath, which added to the belief that her lung was punctured. "Please."

A promise was a promise and Harm never broke promises. It was one of the things ingrained into him since boyhood. 'You never go back on a promise, Harmon.' He remembered Grandma Sarah telling him when he'd offered to clean a neighbors(') stable and then backed out when he didn't like the terms. He certainly couldn't break the promise he made Mac, no matter how it hurt. He had to find a way and leave her there in the process. Without a word he stood and wiped the tears from his eyes which he hadn't noticed he'd shed. "Let's go."

"Good man." Caled pressed a hand against Mac's shoulder and gave her a sad smile. "Allah will watch over you, Sarah. . .If you die, I am sure he will be kind enough to reunite you and your lover."

"Fuck you." She said and only got a chuckle back in response. Watching Harm was one of the most emotionally painful moments of her life. He had made a promise, but love had a way of erasing common sense. Maybe she'd been right when commenting that love was an antidote to instincts. Harm turned when he reached the door, she couldn't see his eyes, but the expression on his face was enough to scare her. After all they'd been through, this was how it was going to end? Mac just didn't have the strength to tell him that she loved him. She only hoped that he understood.

Harm went down the elevator almost on autopilot. His armor that he used in order to shield himself from the emotional weight of his task was now just a veneer. He couldn't completely wrap his head around the thought of losing Mac. It seemed almost surreal that he'd left her behind, bleeding with a life expectancy diminishing with each trickle.

Once they reached ground level, Caled slipped the pistol into his pocket, but jabbed Harm just to remind him who was in control. The blood from his shoulder wound was dripping slowly to the floor and Harm noticed that there was some loss of mobility in the terrorist's primary hand. "It's over there, the Lexus." He pointed at the car parked across the street just in front of Mac's Corvette. Keeping close to Caled, he walked across, turning off the alarm before slipping into the driver's seat.

Caled took the pistol out of his pocket as he sat in the passenger's seat. "Remember not to do anything foolish, Commander."

"How could I forget?" Harm gritted his teeth, grinding them as the thought of leaving Mac behind ate away at his insides. 'What have I done?' He thought with remorse and then said a silent prayer that Mac would live through this.

It wasn't quite his intention to speed down a residential area and nearly careen into a parked car when he'd momentarily lost control due to the slick roads. Caled only found the situation humorous. "Now Commander, drive slowly, I seriously doubt you'd want us to die in a car accident. Who would save Sarah then?"

There was something about the way he said Mac's name that made Harm's skin crawl. "Stop calling her Sarah."

"I'll call her what I wish." Caled responded in a tone that clearly put him in charge of the situation. He sighed deeply and then shook his head. Out of all of his plans this was the most poorly put together. The woman he longed for was certainly going to die and he was riding in an automobile with a lose canon. At the very least, he hoped that Allah would allow his plans, which involved an F-14, to come to fruition.

Lost in his prayers and thoughts, he wasn't aware that Harm had formulated a plan. It had something to do with driving slowly and car accidents. There was a corner, not too far away from Mac's apartment, that was a breeding ground for car accidents. Wisconsin and M street which was reported as being one of the deadliest intersections in Washington. He hoped to cause an accident to his own and possibly render the terrorist unconscious. With Caled's blood loss it was a cinch that he would not be able to handle a crash too well. At least, that's what Harm hoped.

When Caled had noticed the accelerated speed, he was too woozy from the blood loss to formulate a better response. "What are you doing? I told you to drive slowly."

"Trying to beat the red lights." On the slick roads the SVU's good traction couldn't last forever. He quickly donned on his seat belt as the corner he was looking for appeared. A great blinking sign appeared close to the intersection indicating that a lane of traffic was closed. While everyone else was changing lanes, he sped down, aiming towards the sign.

"Commander! I suggest you change lanes, are you trying to kill us!?" Caled tried to retrieve his gun in order to intimidate Harm, but a swerve of the vehicle and the weapon was down, under his seat. "Commander!!"

Harm turned the wheel hard and to the left. The SUV spun slightly and skidded on the slick road. It would have slid onto oncoming vehicle, but the large, metal cart which housed the generator for the sign stopped their movement. Both men were knocked unconscious almost instantly.

It was Harm who came to first, the commotion from a group of onlookers bringing him back to the present. The seatbelt had prevented him from hitting the steering wheel, but his head still hit the side window, causing a nasty gash on his head. Caled did not fare better. The airbags never deployed and the impact had forced his head to hit the front windshield. There was glass and a pool of blood on the dash.

Pressing two fingers to the side of the terrorist's neck, Harm found a pulse which sent him into action. Quickly, he unhooked his seat belt and jumped out of the vehicle, wincing in pain at the ache on his sternum and the sensation of raw skin where the belt had stopped his body's forward progression. He opened the back door, found a small, plastic tool box and pulled out a few tie wraps that he usually had on him, just in case.

He took a few and set to work on binding Caled's hands. He next tied one around the steering wheel and looped it through the tie wrap on his wrists. He then searched Caled's pockets, not finding the pistol until he looked under the seat. "Buddy, are you and your friend alright?" He heard a male voice asked and immediately spun around, pointing the weapon.

"Do you have a car?" He asked the good Samaritan.

The man nodded. "Sure, it's right behind you, why?"

"I need the keys." When his request was answered with a passive expression, Harm did the unthinkable and raised the pistol towards the man. "I said, I need the keys."

Without a word, the gentleman handed them over and watched as a total stranger ran away with his most prized possession, a vintage Corvette. The irony was not lost on Harm as he folded himself into the vehicle and put it in gear. As he sped down the streets, he found a cell phone resting on the seat next to him. Reaching over, he took the phone and immediately called Webb. "Get someone down to M Street and Wisconsin, Yourlsef Caled is there, in my SUV, bleeding to death. . . And call an ambulance to the building across from Mac's apartment, she's been shot."

("What? Rabb, slow down!")

"Webb? Webb! Shit!" He checked the connection on the phone which was non-existent. Recent work and mergers had caused periods of intermittence which had been driving everyone crazy. "Damnit!" He slammed his fist into the steering wheel and hoped that Webb at least understood the message. The last thing he wanted was for Caled to escape – that would mean death for sure. The man would never stop until he squeezed the last bit of life from him and Mac, Harm was certain.

Once he spotted the Jefferson, he stopped the car in the first vacant area he could find, which happened to be the sidewalk just in front of the building. He jumped out and raced up the steps, his lungs burning from exhaustion.

When they had left, Mac tried hard to leave the apartment and get herself and Harm some help. It was futile, the loss of blood combined with the stresses from Caled's torture had rendered her useless. She hated herself for it, cursed the lack of stoicism and survival skills she learned in the Corps. Then again, she was human, not a machine.

The desperation gave way to crying which could only accentuate the pain. She wasn't sure of anything anymore, only that a mad man had taken the man that she loved. Even if she lived, if Harm did the unthinkable, she would never forgive herself.

_It's my fault._ That agonizing thought had tormented her during Harm's recovery. She didn't have to go with Webb and, in retrospect, would have been so much better off if she hadn't. True, their relationship may not have been thrust forward had it not been for the situation. But, she would willingly lose Harm as a lover if it meant that his life was out of peril.

Her thoughts were broken as heavy footsteps ascended the stairs that were in close proximity to the apartment. In the silence, she could hear grunting and immediately braced herself for another encounter with Caled. She hoped he would, mercifully, put an end to her life. If Harm was dead, it wasn't worth living anyway.

The melodramatic thoughts ceased when Harm burst through the door. "Hh. . Har-m" She tried to voice his name, but it hurt too much, breathing was even starting to burn horribly.

"You're alive." Tears burned his eyes, which he willingly shed. As he'd raced up the streets, all he could think about was the amount of blood loss and any internal injuries that Mac could have incurred. "Hang on, Mac. . .I'm getting you out of here." He ignored his own injuries and ran into the bathroom finding a large, fluffy white towel. Returning to Mac, he pressed the towel against her chest, hoping to stop further blood loss. If the red pool around her was any indication, he didn't have much time left.

Carrying Mac in his arms, Harm raced down the stairs and headed straight for the stolen Corvette, whose engine he left running. He opened the passenger's side door and slipped Mac into the seat. She was still conscious and a curious look in her eye nearly made him chuckle. "Don't ask."

The drive to Georgetown University Hospital was somewhat of a blur minus the moment Harm noticed that Mac had gone limp. "No! Mac, no! We're almost there." He could see the building a mere two blocks away. "God, damnit, Marine! Snap to!" But not even the firm, authoritarian call would rouse her.

Harm raced towards emergency, stopping the Corvette at an awkward angle right behind a pair of ambulances. He jumped out and raced around to the passenger's side and pulled Mac out. All but running, Harm moved quickly through emergency, Mac's body laying limp in his arms. "Help me. . .She's been shot."

An intern, who was busy getting information from relatives about a victim of a car accident, sprung to life. "Get a gurney!"

Seconds later, Harm stood, motionless staring at the characteristic two sided door with small, porthole sized windows. Through them he could see Mac and the medical team that was rushing her into surgery. The farther they went, the more he felt his life drain away from him until he collapsed from exhaustion onto the pristine white, linoleum floors.

**1320 Local  
****Georgetown University Hospital  
****Georgetown**

"Rabb? Rabb! Wake up!" If he wasn't having a nightmare, he was certainly living through one. The first thing to rouse Harm's sense, besides the incessant yelling by none other than Clayton Webb, was the unmistakable smell of antiseptic. "Could you give him some smelling salts?"

Smelling salts?! "Ugh, no. . .I'm awake." He groaned and propped open one eye. His assessments were true. Harm was living a nightmare with Webb and a hospital to boot. Slowly, he raised his body and propped himself up against the headboard as the nurse assigned to him was slipping a pillow to allow more comfort for his back. "Did you get Caled?"

The moment Harm uttered the terrorist's name, Webb's eyes were as wide as saucers. "Rabb! She's not cleared to hear about him!" He waved his hands towards the nurse and then indicated with his thumb that she needed to leave the room. "Get out."

"But, sir." She objectd intending to get all of Harm's vitals now that he was awake. "Doctor Malloy said that. . ."

Webb placed his hands on his hips, if the girl was going to be defiant, so was he. "I don't give a rat's ass, get out." When she didn't budge, he decided to use a little muscle. "Look, girlie, this is a CIA matter. Get out."

Harm was finding the whole situation rather amusing, Webb upstaged by a strong willed, young, female nurse. "Ah, it's okay. . .You can finish checking my vitals later." He smiled reassuringly and then waited for the girl to step out before directing his ire towards Webb. "Your bedside manner sucks."

"Then it's good that I'm not a doctor." Webb settled into a chair next to Harm's bed and sighed deeply. "Caled is dead. . .He bled out on the way to this hospital." There was no doubting the spy's tone of voice, but that didn't mean Harm would leave it at that.

"I want to see the body."

"Harm. . ."

"No, Webb, I want to see the god damned body. . .Today."

Webb shook his head and sighed deeply. "Dog with a bone, Rabb. . .Fine. . .We have him downstairs, our forensics experts and medical examiner are looking him over now."

The next order of business was much more difficult to discuss and both men sat in silence for a moment before Harm had the courage to ask. "How's Mac?"

"Not good." He wouldn't elaborate because it was impossible to do so. They'd only been admitted a mere hour earlier and the doctor had not been too forthcoming with information, no matter what government agency Webb belonged to. At that, Harm tore the sheets off of him, ripped the IV out of his vein and got out of the bed. "Rabb." Webb was at his side at once, helping to settle Harm when his feet nearly came out from under him. "Harm . ."

Harm angrily brushed his hand away and padded towards the closet to retrieve his jeans. "Don't Webb." He slipped them on and then went for his shirt. Oddly enough there was a green scrub top hanging there instead. "Where are my clothes?"

Webb stuffed his hands into his pant pockets. "Your shirt was covered in blood." He watched as Harm slipped the top on and then sat to put on his tennis shoes. "You're going to do more damage than good if you don't get some rest, Harm."

"I don't care about me."

"You should. Mac's going to need you."

Harm was in his face, standing toe to toe in an instant. "How do you know what she'll need?. . .She wouldn't. . .Hell, _we_ wouldn't be in this mess if you never tapped her to begin with. . .JAG isn't your private agency pool, damnit." He shoved Webb hard, nearly causing him to trip. When that wasn't enough, his rage had the agent pinned to the wall. "If she dies there is no where in the world you can hide. I'm coming after you."

Webb shoved him back and used his forearm against Harm's throat. "Did you ever think that this was _your_ fault? You didn't have to go on that mission. . .You strong armed your way into something you knew nothing about. . . If Mac dies, it'll be on _your_ conscience and you can't live with that, can you? You can't stand the fact that Mac would have willingly gone along with me."

"Mac's a _Marine._ She wouldn't have said no." With that, he stepped out of the hospital room and rushed to the nearest nurses' station.

Three hours later, Harm was sitting alone in the waiting room, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Apparently, the staff had needed to sew his head and he absentmindedly toyed with the white, sterile bandage that circled his head. Choosing not to let anyone know the kidnapping had both been a godsend and damnation. Though he longed for company, Harm wasn't too sure that he had the strength to relay all of the information as of yet. It was bad enough that Webb would return later for a formal statement once Caled's body was taken care of.

The terrorist was dead, really dead this time. Harm had seen the body which was laying naked above a metal gurney. A pristine white sheet was the only thing covering him. And that was it, the end. Case closed. But, if Mac died, Caled would still win.

"Commander. . .Harm." It wasn't very often that someone with authority used his title in such a gentle tone of voice. "Are you alright?" Even less likely when that person with authority was one AJ Chegwidden.

Harm nearly snapped to attention but a wave off from his commanding officer, kept him seated. "I. . .ah. . .How'd. . ."

"Webb. . .He filled me in and I rushed right over. . .The rest of the staff knows and will likely be by later." He slipped into the chair next to Harm and placed his cover on his knee. "How's Mac?"

_Mac. _Harm's face immediately drained of its color when he remembered the last ten minutes of his life, part of which included an encounter with Mac's surgeon. _"Her chest filled with blood and her lung collapsed. . .we had to put a chest tube to drain the blood and intubate as she was having difficulty breathing. . .Thankfully there isn't any air leaking into the spaces around the lung and we are confident that she will not develop pneumonia." _The doctor had then placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. "_She's alive. . .I've seen people come out of worse."_

"_When can I see her?"_ He hadn't been prepared to see her body, small and frail lying against the white sheets. Her hair was matted to her face and her skin was so pale. A syncopated beeping of all the gadgetry made him realize just how many tubes were attached. Harm reached for her left hand, his breath catching at how cold she was to the touch.

Taking a deep breath, Harm turned to face the Admiral, his emotions running painfully obvious "Long story, short: Caled shot her. . .The bullet nicked her lung and ah. . .she's. . .she's having trouble breathing on her own. . .She's alive, but hasn't woken up." He sat back into the chair and sighed loudly. "I am trying to figure out who's to blame.'

Chegwidden raised a brow. The inner workings of both Rabb and MacKenzie were often completely obtuse. Harm surely couldn't be blaming himself for this? Could he? "Please don't tell me you blame yourself."

"No. Not completely. But, there's enough blame to pass around. Caled for the life he led .. Webb for tapping Mac. Mac for going on that stupid mission. And me. . .I shouldn't have followed. . .I should have stopped her. . .Convinced her. . .Hell, maybe even kidnap her if it meant keeping her safe. . .But, I shouldn't have gone. . .What I feel for Mac sometimes makes me act impulsively. . ."

"Love is an antidote to instincts." AJ said, then stood and walked to the coffee machine as he fished his wallet out of his pocket. "I remember feeling the way you did when Laura was killed."

_Laura?_ It had been so long ago that it took a moment or two for Harm's memory to resurface. "Judge DeLaney. . .I remember how difficult it was for you to just let Osbourne walk, sir."

"Mmmm. I had nightmares about it. . . I still do. Coffee?" He pointed at the machine and fed a five dollar bill into the slot.

"Yes, thank you." He gratefully took a cup of piping black sludge and downed a quarter of it. "I think Mac's going to need help. . .A lot of help." Thoughts kept slamming into his mind of the things that Caled had done to Mac. Things that he was not privy to. "I don't think he. . .you know. . . but. . .I. . .ah." Harm wiped a stray tear with the back of his hand. "I know he did _something_ to her. . .Mac was a mess when I found her. . .She had this mark on her cheek and her hair was wet. . ." At the very least, he was grateful that neither of them were put through a sham wedding for Caled's perverse pleasure. Harm would nave never recovered if he had to have witnessed the terrorist forcing himself on her. "Actually, I think _I'm_ gonna need a little help too. . . What that son of a bitch had planned for her. . .Jesus Christ. . .He wanted me to watch while he raped her. . .Actually, in his twisted mind, I was to be the witness as he wed her."

AJ studied Harm, jaw tensed in anger. "What?" The younger man's response was a shake of the head and another heavy sigh. "Jesus." After retrieving his own sludge, AJ sat next to his senior officer and patted him on the shoulder. "You and Mac have a history of getting out of sticky situations. . .Don't give up on her."

"Never, sir. . .Never."

**Six Days Later  
****0602 Local  
****Georgetown University Hospital  
****Georgetown**

For three nights Harm had slept on whatever he could find, which meant trading between a recliner in Mac's room and the seats in the waiting room. Neither were very comfortable and the option of sleeping on the floor was becoming more appealing as time went by. Thankfully, a nurse who had a think for tall, handsome sailors was able to finagle another bed which he could use.

Work hadn't been an issue, yet. Admiral Chegwidden had put the pair on emergency leave. Harm wouldn't be due back in the office for about a month.

Their 'family' would visit, of course, but kept their distance when they realized that Harm would rather be alone than with company. It wasn't true, of course, but the company usually caught him in a bad mood.

Harm shifted in the bed, attempting to get a little more sleep when a choking sound startled him. Turning towards Mac's bed, he found her reaching for the tube in her mouth. "Mac, no!" Hurrying to her side, he stilled her hands and then reached for the button to call the nurses station. Within seconds someone responded. "She's awake!"

"_I'll contact the doctor."_

Mac tried to fight his hands, but he was much, much stronger. "Mac, it's okay. . .Relax. . .It'll be okay." He kept one hand in hers, the other stroking her face lovingly. It comforted her and despite the uncomfortable tube, she relaxed slightly. Tears stung her eyes when she tried to swallow. The tube was painfully scratching at her throat. "I know. I was intubated after the ramp strike. . .I know it sucks. . .Give the doctors a chance to check you over and they'll have it out, I promise." With the pad of his thumb he brushed away the tears. "You had me worried, Marine. . .They're going to kick me out of here for a while so that they can check you over. . .But, I'll be back soon, Sarah."

Trying her best to seem responsive and the warm look in her eye made him realize that she understood. "I love you." He said and kissed the back of her hand. _'I love you, too.'_ She thought and prepared herself when the doctor and a nurse stepped in.


	23. In Joy And Sorrow

**Oh Looook! Chappie 23! Aren't you guys happy now? I bet you are, right?! Goooooooood!**

**For those waiting for "Fine Art" you'll have to wait until my writers block on that story fades and I am not certain when that will be. I am not liking the begining of the next chapter and have yet to find anything better. I know what is going to happen, but jotting it down is difficultish!**

**I appologize for not responding to your feedback as I usually do, but sometimes I am a little busy and very forgetful!**

**Enjoy!  
J.**

**Chapter 23 – In Joy And Sorrow**

**1345 Local  
Georgetown University Hospital  
Georgetown**

Mac glared evilly at the plastic, blue contraption sitting on the tray in front of her. She'd been instructed to inhale through the mouth piece about ten times an hour. The process was annoying and it hurt but it was essential if she wanted to get her lungs back up to speed. Groaning, she aligned her body as suggested, pulled the tube close to her and sealed her lips around the mouth piece. She breathed in slowly, wincing as the dull ache grew. Pain medication wasn't cutting it anymore. Then again, after her teenaged drinking binges, few prescriptions did much of anything. It was once explained that her body just had a high tolerance against medication.

Staring at the contraption, she watched as the piston moved up slightly higher than her last try. At least things were progressing, in a few days she would be allowed to go home.

"Ah, playing with your breathing thingy, good." Harm's rich voice earned a hard glare. Despite the fact that the medical crew had given them the name of the device (incentive spirometer) on numerous occasions, both she and Harm referred to it as the 'breathing thingy.'

"I would kick your ass if it. . . weren't because I can't. . . breathe properly, yet. . .But, just beware." Her voice was still raspy and scratched. For the most part, all she could afford was a little louder than a whisper. "Now, would you get your. . . six here and. . . kiss me?"

Harm chuckled and did as told before sitting in the chair across from her. "I love you too, Marine." Any banter was a good sign at her recovery, though he knew there was still a long way to go. He'd discussed psychiatric help in detail with his former headshrinker and she'd pointed at a Naval Lieutenant Commander at Bethesda who she felt would be good for Mac. He hadn't discussed any of this with her, Harm didn't want her ire, nor did he want to hamper her recovery. But the nightmares that plagued her during sleep were becoming more violent. "Did you get much sleep?"

Mac shook her head. "Nope. . .My body wants its. . own bed." She grabbed the breathing thingy again and made her eighth attempt of the hour. Groaning, Mac settled back into the bed, and closed her eyes. It was truly amusing how just the act of breathing was exhausting. "When do you go back. . . to work?"

"Trying to get rid of me already?" Harm procured the TV remote control from the nightstand and proceeded to flip channels. "Cartoons, Jerry Springer or. . ." He already knew what channel she was going to insist on. "Lifetime, right?" She grinned and nodded and Harm pretended to be annoyed. "You and your chic channel."

"Oh, please, you enjoyed. . . the movie yesterday. . .I saw you wiping. . . a tear away." Though he'd insisted it was 'just a lash.' She too was sobbing, or attempting to without causing more pain. Maybe it was her injuries or perhaps her hormones were out of whack, but sappy TV was a comfort.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Harm's attempt to watch the tube was preempted by his own thoughts, which were running at a hundred miles an hour. Mac hadn't asked about Caled, nor had he told her much of what had happened. Maybe she just didn't want to know? It worried him that she wasn't at least curious. He chewed on his lower lip and then reached for the remote and shut off the TV.

"Hey!" Mac complained. "This one wasn't. . . _that_ bad."

"Forget the movie." He turned his chair to face her. "We need to talk." Reaching over, Harm took one of Mac's hands in his. "It's about everything that happened." At his pause, Mac stared expectantly. She hadn't exactly cared about this particular conversation. It was in the past, the recent past, but the past none-the-less. "Why haven't you asked me about it?"

"Is he dead?"

"Yes."

Mac considered that for a moment. Her biggest concern had been having to eventually run from Caled again. She would prepare for it, of course, but it was a little nicer to know that he was six feet under. "Did you see. . . the body?"

"Webb took me to see it before I was debriefed."

"He debriefed you?" She cringed at the thought. Debriefs with the CIA were neither short nor fun. Mac could imagine the discomfort Harm must have felt, especially after his recent head injury. "So it's over."

"It's not that simple, Mac. . .We can't just wipe our hands of this. . .What he put us through. . .What he put _you_ through."

"Is over." She interrupted him and leaned her head back into the pillows. "I don't want. . . to talk about it."

"We have to, Mac."

"And what will. . . that solve?" She asked, exasperated that he would push the issue especially with her still in the hospital.

Harm's mouth opened and closed. In truth, he didn't know what it would solve or if there was anything _to_ solve. But he remembered himself in a similar position, desperately needing help and unwilling to ask for it. His fear nearly consumed him and it wasn't until he talked about his worries with a total stranger that everything felt normal again. His balance was back and so was a new found freedom at being able to express himself with Mac. "Mac, you and I have a habit of keeping a tight lid on things. . .You're strong, tough, but you need to speak to someone."

"I am fine." She wasn't. Mac knew she had unresolved issues, problems that kept her awake at night. Though she wasn't one to sleep for extended periods of time, nightmares didn't plague her to the point that she was exhausted all day. That changed after Paraguay. "I don't. . .need. . .help." She stammered out and then placed a hand on her chest as her lungs burned from the effort of speaking. The motion causing Harm to move to her side in an instant. He held her while the pain subsided and then mentally cursed himself. "I need rest." Mac said weakly, her breathing settling through groans.

One of the things that the medical staff had warned Harm about was to not agitate Mac. She needed to be kept calm in order for her not to cause undo stress on her body and mainly, her lung. "I'm sorry, Mac." He really shouldn't have been surprised. The same stubbornness to receive so much needed aid had plagued him as well. Harm only hoped it wouldn't change her and that their relationship wouldn't suffer for it. Little did he know that the fates were to conspire against him. . .against them.

**Two Months Later  
****2201 Local  
****Mac's Apartment  
****Georgetown**

"_Harm, I need to be alone. . .I need some time to figure things out."_ Mac's words were uttered with such finality that it hurt her to say them. It wasn't that she didn't want Harm around, but his insistence at her seeing _someone_ that would _help_ was starting to irk her. She was a Marine and a woman who had been through more through life than some people had in several lifetimes.

She was able to overcome just about anything. If Harm believed in her so much, like he said he did, then why couldn't he let her try to get over this bump as well?

Bump.

Yes, there was a bump in the road, a moment when she wasn't as vulnerable as she'd been at the hospital. Mac was able to stand on her own again and found her former, liable self to be nothing but a mirror of her past. She didn't like feeling that way and vowed to find herself again no matter what it took. As long as it didn't take a trip to the head shrinker.

However, Mac hadn't counted on Harm taking her flying solo as rejection. She'd figured that after the rollercoaster ride they'd been on, he'd grown up. She was disappointed and wrong.

Then in came the bump.

He'd been pissy at work for the last two weeks, chewing her head off even when she'd opted for a truce and offered to treat him to lunch. The Admiral caught on and the whole staff was walking on eggshells. So, she decided to keep him at arms length until he cooled down or she found a way to get into his better graces.

Sighing deeply, she settled into one of the chairs on her small balcony. A heavy smell of atmosphere dictated the rain that was coming. Mac never liked the bad weather, it had spooked her to no end as a child and occasionally plagued her as an adult. She wouldn't lie, part of her dislike of rough weather _did_ have to do with Harm's plunge into the Atlantic several years prior.

_Harm._ The man was never too far from her mind; love had a way of doing that – torturing you with thoughts of the person you most longed to be with. And it wasn't like she couldn't have him, but at the moment, she just needed a little space.

As usual, the space came with the loneliness and heartache that she'd lived with before they got together. It mirrored the ache she felt when Harm had gone through his personal issues after the tango with Caled. She took a long drink of the pink lemonade she'd been nursing and then placed the glass on the floor.

Lack of sleep had been grinding her down, somewhat. Thank God for Clinique and their fabulous concealer that hid the nasty circles under her eyes. It had caused her to begin a sort of ritual: she'd arrive from home and, still in uniform, sit in the dark on her sofa. Hours would go by before any semblance of sleep would force her into bed. A few times she'd considered a late night run only to return more wired and less likely to get forty winks.

Then there were the nightmares, vividly realistic to the point that she could _feel_ Caled's hands on her body. The worst had been the dreams she'd had where Harm had watched, helplessly tied up without a chance of rescuing her. Often she'd relive their time in Caled's compound, down to the screams that came from the torture shack. Still, she resisted the type of 'help' that Harm had previously insisted on. Mac didn't need a shrink to tell her she was messed up. In this day and age was there anyone without some sort of _issue_?

Work had been _uneventful_, literally and figuratively. The Admiral's idea of 'light duty' had been to have Mac shovel papers from her desk to someone else's. Briefs sucked when you were an attorney with a fire and a passion for litigation. Mac craved the courtroom and her little battles with Harm were fun as well. She still had a tiny problem disassociating herself from certain cases, but she was getting better. At the very least, she and Harm had gotten to the point that what happened in the court room did not affect their friendship.

Four days ago, the paperwork had given her something interesting; compelling really. Before long, Mac was out in the field, traveling to Baltimore to solve a rape case that had turned to murder. It involved a Lieutenant Andrew Safian and a minor who said 'no.' NCIS had made the arrest and Mac had stood by while the man was taken into custody for his sins. Another bastard was taken from the world and the Admiral would return her back to normal duty next week.

Harm had gotten wind of her 'exploit' and had a few choice words to say about the whole situation. He was pissed off as hell and voicing it publicly in the bullpen. It earned a glare or two and a reaming from Chegwidden who took Harm's outbursts as a 'lover's spat.' It wasn't, but when you know that your two most senior officers have a 'thing' it tends to taint your perception.

So, here she sat, alone on a Friday night, wondering if something could have changed. Mac knew the answer which pinpointed to one day when she'd offered to help Clayton Webb. It had been her dumbest mistake and yet, she couldn't fully fault herself for trying to do her duty. 'Good deeds never go unpunished.' Whoever coined that phrase must have been screwed so many times in life.

Fishing through her jean pocket, she retrieved her cell phone which was vibrating against her hip. She stared at the display screen which indicated that she had a message. It was from Harm. _'Hey, it's me. . .Uh, me, Harm.'_ Mac had to chuckle, as if she didn't know what his voice sounded like by now. _'We need to talk. . .I know you think I was out of line but, I just. . .I wasn't, okay. I care for you no matter how hard you try to push me away. . .Admit that It was stupid of you to go on a wild goose chase after some murdering. . .'_

The message cut off before he finished whatever he'd been saying. Mac stared at the device for a few seconds, trying to determine her next mood. "I need some sleep." She said out loud but lacked the motivation to head inside until the first few drops of rain pelted her head. Still in a buttoned burgundy shirt and blue jeans, Mac collapsed into the sofa, futilely staring at her bedroom door.

She hadn't spent much time in that room at all except for passing through in order to reach the head or stopping by the dresser or the closet to get her clothes. Even her make up would be applied in the living room with the use of a small mirror despite the beautiful vanity she had in her bedroom.

Mac would likely never admit it to anyone, but being in her bedroom, alone, scared her. She recalled with such detail the last moment she'd been in there, with Harm. He'd been above her, his eyes focused on her own. Mac's legs were wrapped around his thighs, her hands on his biceps. They'd been making love and it had been the last time they'd been intimate since Caled decided to play kidnapper.

Not that she had a real say in it. With her being shot and the recovery afterwards combined with her need for some alone time – the situation wasn't conducive to a healthy sex life.

Bringing her arms around her, Mac closed her eyes and just imagined that Harm was there. She needed him more than she'd ever needed anyone. "Then why am I being so stupid?" Her body was craving physical contact, not that the contact she had in mind was really ideal to her current situation – persons who felt as vulnerable as she did generally would be better off without letting sex taint certain perspectives.

With that thought in mind, Sarah MacKenzie drifted off in a fitful sleep. She awoke half an hour later, drenched in sweat and with such need for human companionship that it physically hurt. That's when she decided that the best way to make amends was to seduce Harm back into loving her. If he did love her, he wouldn't have made the scene at the office which had embarrassed her beyond belief.

Yes, that was the real reason why Mac put herself into the predicament to begin with. After all that had happened, Caled, her recovery and their arguments, Mac genuinely believed that Harm was falling out of love with her. There was no real rational reason why. Chock it up to past issues with significant others and the way Harm had been minding her like a child as of late. Whatever it was, Mac felt insecure, unloved and hurt.

She was going to do something about it before it got worse.

**2245 Local  
****Harm's Apartment  
****North of Union Station**

Harm checked his cell phone for the tenth time that evening. "Why isn't she returning my calls?" He asked angrily as he tossed the device onto the couch and made his way towards the kitchen. The situation wasn't ideal, far from it. He knew he had a small part to do with her needed 'space.' Then again, he could hardly argue considering that he'd done the same thing after returning from Paraguay. He _needed_ the alone time to figure things out before getting serious with her again.

In that aspect he understood, really he did. But it didn't make things easier knowing that what she really needed was to have someone there. He only hoped that by the time she figured that out, she still loved him.

It stunk to be so insecure and yet, it was something he lived through when it came to Mac. She'd shot him down a few times and it left a bruise on his ego that he'd thought had gone away ever since they became 'official.' Then again, their relationship was so delicate that it was hard to decipher everything about it. All he knew was that he missed her terribly and hated knowing that she was suffering and that he couldn't help.

Opening up his cabinet he reached for a wine goblet and then searched his fridge for a bottle of Merlot that he'd recently bought. Harm was glad for the purchase, it had been a while since he'd indulged in anything but beer. It was a welcomed change that he was planning on savoring until the bottle ran dry. He wasn't drinking away his sorrows, per se, he was just drinking in order to relax.

The last few weeks had been terrible. He'd become excessively wired and angry with everyone. It had to do with Mac and when Sturgis called him on it, Harm opted to play aloof. The Admiral, however, was a more difficult person to deal with. AJ had been angry and both he and Mac were called on the carpet like a couple of misguided teenagers – the term that AJ used was "kindergarten babies."

In part, Harm knew he was to blame; bombarding Mac with his theories about her needing therapy wasn't received well. Rather than opt for a better way to show his concern, dog with a bone that he was, Harm attacked. He didn't want her to go through what he did and sought to end the problems before they got worse. Mac was stubborn though, it was something he always loved about her. But that stubbornness, much like his own, had a habit of biting you in the end.

Then there was that case where Mac had decided to play cop and infuriated him beyond belief. In retrospect, he'd attacked her without knowing the full story behind her crusade. She really hadn't been in any danger considering that NCIS had been on the case and Mac's involvement was below minimal. Still, he was an alpha male and like most alpha males, had the tendency to be on the overprotective side. In Harm's defense, he had almost lost her and the experience was still raw in his mind.

Harm was down to half a bottle of Merlot when a rapping at the door broke him out of his stupor. Slightly sober, he shuffled towards the door and opened without looking through the peephole. "Mac?" He raised a brow at her appearance – low cut, tight blue jeans and a burgundy, longed sleeved shirt that had three open buttons too many. He didn't expect to have her in his arms so quickly and with so little words.

Mac's mouth fused onto his for a kiss that literally made him shiver. Harm had been expecting to grovel – a lot - and if this was her idea of making up, he was happy to concede. The wine glass slipped out of his fingers, shattering on the floor . Out of breath, he broke the kiss and took one step back to find Mac licking her lips. "Mmm, wine. Haven't had any of that in ages." She made to kiss him again and was surprised when he stepped away.

"I. . .I ah." He stared down at the mess on the floor and then looked back at her. Harm was sorry that she'd tasted the liquor on his lips. He felt guilty for something that he really didn't have to excuse himself for. Mac didn't really seem to mind, not that she ever really had much to say about him drinking. "Mac." The look in her eyes just about did him in. There was a passionate determination, a fire that captivated him like a moth to a flame. Harm was helpless to do anything but comply when Mac stepped so close to him that the perfume she wore attacked his senses.

Taking one of his hands, Mac brought it up to her mouth and proceeded to nibble on his index finger. The sight brought a quiver that Harm couldn't suppress and in one motion he took her into his arms. With his foot, he closed the door and slammed Mac up against it. "Ooof." He heard her groan against his lips, but did not stop the onslaught.

His nimble fingers worked on the buttons of the shirt and when she kissed a line down his neck, Harm felt himself sober, the adrenaline knocking the alcohol out of his system. He pulled the shirt open and immediately touched her hot skin with his hands that moved up to her shoulders in order to push off the shirt. Mac raised his shirt up, exposing his abs and longing to feel his naked body against hers. She nudged the shirt up a bit more and Harm immediately tugged it off and tossed it to the side. Between kisses his hands found the clasp of her bra which he pushed off of her shoulders and fell in a pool with the rest of their clothing.

He pressed his body against her as they traded kisses that were full of so much fire it was certain they would go up in flames. Mac had never felt so out of control and yet so safe to lose control. She slid her hands from his chest down to the button of his jeans which she undid along with the fly.

"Oh Mac." The feel of her hand on him was too much and all rational thought fled his mind. Harm placed his hands under her thighs and pushed up. Her legs wrapped around his hips as his hands held on tight to her body. Careful not to step on the glass on the floor, Harm led them towards the bedroom. He dropped Mac on the bed, slipped off the shoes and socks that she was wearing and then made quick work of her jeans and underwear.

"Stealthy." She grinned mischievously and watched him fight with his own clothing. Naked, Harm kneeled between her legs, desperately seeking to complete what they had begun. He found the heaven he'd been looking for and Mac felt all the insecurity melt away with each movement.

Their love making was neither tender nor slow. It was passionate, hard and indicative of two souls that longed for each other after being kept apart. Her nails raked against his skin, urging him not to stop the furious pace. Harm kept his eyes locked on her own. Before long they were both exhausted and blissfully sated.

Mac had fallen asleep almost immediately, allowing the cocoon of safety that she felt in his arms replace her own armor which was seriously chinked. Sleep didn't find Harm quite as easily and he spent quite a long period of time just watching her. The marks on her face from Caled's attack were gone, but she still bore a scar on her chest, where the bullet had gone through. He placed his hand over the puffed skin, frowning at something that he believed was his fault along with the mark on her thigh from a poacher's bullet – another thing that had been his fault. Sighing, he slowly got out of bed and headed to the living room in order to clean up the wine and glass. He tossed away the half empty bottle after emptying the contents into the sink. After a quick shower, Harm killed all of the lights in the apartment and slipped back into bed.

Harm slipped up behind Mac, her back against his chest, one arm wrapped protectively around her middle. He let out a deep sigh and hoped that this wasn't just for the moment. He loved her and intended on their relationship to be a permanent thing no matter what it took. As the vestiges of sleep began taking hold, he barely felt Mac move.

She turned out of his grasp and then back again. "No." The movement, subtle at first, became utterly violent and she thrashed against the sheets. "No!" In her nightmares, Caled was touching her again. He had her chained to a bed with Harm bound and gagged to a chair just in front of them. "Oh please no!" The terrorist nudged her legs apart, threatening to do the unthinkable.

The trashing woke Harm. "Mac?" Reaching over, he touched her shoulder, hoping to calm the nightmares. "Mac. . .It's okay." His hand touching her skin was a near fatal mistake.

It took her two seconds to react, but when she did, Harm was on his back, being shoved into the mattress. Mac was sitting astride his body, legs tightening against his ribcage, her forearm dug into his throat as she threatened to choke the life out of him. "Maaac." Harm croaked, desperately trying to stop the assault without hurting her. He knew she was physically strong, but he'd never been on the receiving end of anything but a bit of playful sparring. Her knowledge of hand to hand skills outdid his own and it was clear that she knew how to use them when he felt himself start to black out.

Roughly he grabbed her shoulders and pushed hard. Though her attack at his throat lessened, her thighs tightened against his ribcage. "Maaaaac. . .Stop. . . please."

His voice finally got through the nightmare. The tension of Mac's body gave way and Harm soon had her flat on her back. "Harm?" He rolled away from her, consumed in a coughing fit as his hand wrapped around his throat. Reaching the nightstand, Mac fumbled for a switch and turned on the lamp. "Harm!" She moved around the bed, kneeling next to him. Managing to tear his hands away from his throat she saw the mark.

"Oh my god." She resisted the urge to vomit and tears swam in her eyes. "What have I done?"

"You. . .you were. . .going to kill. .me." He said, rubbing his hand as he tried to swallow. The last time anyone had attacked his throat it was in a submarine when a deranged Corpsman landed one hell of a chop against his larynx. The memory came surfacing back as did that of Mac nearly dying in his arms when the same Corpsman squeezed the life out of her own throat.

Tears filled her eyes as she studied her handiwork. "It was a nightmare. . .Caled. . .Oh God, Harm." She breathed heavily, slowly losing what was left of control. Mac raced out of the room and towards the kitchen. She used a rag which she filled with ice and hurried back into the room. Harm was sitting at the edge of the bed, staring at her with such concern. He still had his hand against his throat, rubbing the area carefully. It physically hurt to realize what she had become. Mac let out a breath she'd been holding and the rag fell from her hands. "Oh God." She lowered herself down to the floor, curling into a ball and rocked herself back and forth.

"Sarah." Taking a sheet from the bed, Harm covered her naked body and then settled next to her on the floor. Carefully, he pulled her into his arms and sat there, rocking her body, hoping to ease the demons that were threatening to tear them apart.

Mac shivered against his touch and then relaxed into his arms. Her head fell to the crook of his neck as her body shook with each sob. "I'm sorry." She repeated over and over again as he rocked her. "I never meant to hurt you."

"I know." He croaked out and still held onto her, willing to trade anything in his possession for her to be alright. "I know."

She pulled away from him, enough to look into his eyes. "I need help. . .I do." It took a lot for her to admit to a weakness especially in a moment were she was naked both physically and emotionally. "I'll do whatever it takes. . .Just don't stop loving me."

As if he ever could? She was branded into his heart and no matter what transpired he couldn't ever stop loving her. It was impossible and the past had proved that to him. "I won't, Sarah." In joy and sorrow his home was in her arms.

Despite the vulnerability and the insecurities, Mac believed him. Now she just needed to get well again and ease the haunting nightmares for his sake and hers. For them.


	24. Love, Jealousy and Guilt

Dear Lord! This chapter has driven me crazy since I started the story. I had bits and peices of this writen and deleted and started over again. Vered likes it, so I am hoping her taste suits the rest of you crazy doods and doodettes. Really, it's got to be one of the chapters that I just couldn't do anythiing with. 

So, here it is and one more chapter to go which is nearly complete with a nice shippery goodness ending. 

Enjoy and excuse this overworked person's issues. 

Jackie. 

PS: The next story is progressing nicely. V has started betaing ideas are popping into my head and I am hoping to have some more time to write as on Weds, Sat and Sun I am at the spa at 6am with nothing to do until clients start to walk in. It was enough to help me put down four pages into the mix today. It's fun writing the Harm and Mac dynamic without Harm being Mac's partner or a lawyer. And the fact that Diane never died is just going to be one hell of a ride. She's not nearly as nice as one would have it. Ask V, she'll tell you. grins 

Okay, enough teasing. grins 

Chapter 24 - Love, Jealousy & Guilt  
**1425 Local  
****Bethesda Medical Center  
****Bethesda, Maryland**

Lieutenant Commander Vera McCool had been used to dealing with stubborn patients, most of them ordered by their commanding officers to attend counseling. Sarah MacKenzie, though, was a conundrum. Upon making the appointment, McCool asked her usual questions to discover that the Colonel had been a willing patient. Even the most willing of patients had some trouble getting over the start of a therapy, but this case would be a tougher nut to crack.

Mac sat in the arm chair, just across from Dr. McCool. She'd been at the office for a little under twenty minutes and hadn't really said much at all. McCool had gone through the basics, the normal prodding that shrinks went through in order to put patients at ease. The ease had never come and all Mac wanted to do was run.

Patiently, Dr. McCool waited for an answer to her question. "Colonel, I realize this is tough for you, especially with it being your first time, but. . ."

"You have no idea. . .and this isn't my first time." No, her first time had been right after the car accident with Eddie, when she'd been urged to seek counseling before joining the Marine Corps.

"Okay, so, what was your first time like?" Sometimes picking at the distant past had the ability to intersect with current issues. "Were you much younger? Were you in the service at the time?"

Mac sighed deeply, her fingers running over her cover which lay on her lap. "I was. . .Either eighteen or nineteen, right now I don't remember exactly." Thoughts of the accident had never really left her alone. While she didn't dwell on them, often enough, the memories of the crash scared her to death. "I. . .I was in a bad car accident. . .A friend of mine died and I lived. . .The recruiter believed I should see a shrink before joining the Corps." She shrugged, "I went for a few days, can't say it did anything."

"The memories still haunt you?"

"Not as much, but, yes. . .From time to time I feel. . ."

"Guilty?" It was a common issue, survivors of an accident often feeling the guilt if the other victims didn't survive. "That's quite common and understandable."

"I'm not here because I feel guilty." Yet, that was the exact reason why she was here, why so many things had happened. McCool pinned Mac with an unbelieving glare and a second later, she relented. "Alright, it's part of the reason." She reached the center table and took a mug of coffee in her hands. "A lot of this is classified."

"I have the clearance and the CIA's approval." It had been the CIA, in fact, which approved McCool for the sessions and ensured they would stay out of Mac's records - a favor of sorts from Webb to help him deal with his own guilt. "Colonel, how can I put you at ease?"

"Erase the last year from my life?" Mac offered, chuckling slightly until Harm came to mind. Had the year been erased, the good times, the relationship and the man she craved so much wouldn't have occurred. "No. . .If. . ." She trailed off, catching herself before she exposed a vulnerability that was now part of her strength as well.

"If?"

Taking a breath, Mac stared at the coffee cup and its contents. "If the last year of my life hadn't happened. . .I wouldn't. . .I wouldn't be with _him_."

"Him?" Mostly, service men and women would come to Dr. McCool to deal with the demons which stemmed from combat. On occasion, relationships would be introduced, but this time, Vera McCool suspected that Sarah MacKenzie's problems were mainly wrapped around a man – and not just any man.

Mac couldn't prevent the small smile, nor the soft look in her eyes. "Harm. . .he's. . .He means everything to me. We are co-workers, sometimes partners. He's a JAG officer, former pilot. . .And, despite everything that we went through. . .we're still together. . and he loves me." She'd been in awe of that. How could a man, who'd she'd put through so much, still love her? "I don't get how, but he does."

McCool put two and two together and realized one little key part that most persons would not have noted. 'Despite everything that we went through.' The Colonel had given away something that would aid the psychiatrist. "Harm went through a crisis with you."

"Not _a_ crisis. . ._the_ crisis." His screams still haunted her, maybe they always would. He was alive, as was she, but it was so difficult to come to terms with it all. And Mac blamed herself for letting Webb con her and for not anticipating Harm's willingness to put his life in her hands. "He was tortured and nearly died when we tried to get home. . .It was a classified mission that neither of us should have been on, more so Harm who only went to watch out for me."

"You blame yourself for his involvement." It wasn't a question, not at all. McCool stated the one piece of face that she knew Mac would negate.

"No." The quickness of the answer hit like whiplash. It was that quickness that led on to something that had been bothering Mac from the get go. She _did_ feel guilty, so much so that it was hard to come to terms with everything that had happened. It _was_ her fault, how could it not be? Had she never gone to Harm's apartment, he wouldn't have known. Then again, she'd felt terrible for not visiting him while in the brig. Sighing, she turned away from McCool's stare. "I may have had a thing or two to do with it."

"Did you force Harm to go on the mission with you?"

"No, but he was worried about me. I should have figured he'd try to bull his way in. Harm's like that. He has this Superman complex – has to save the day – and usually does."

"You're jealous." McCool accused only to find Mac chuckling at the assumption.

Mac shook her head. "I guess, sometimes. . . Yes. . .He's been the hero most of the time and I . .I guess I was just the sidekick. . .The Robin to his Batman." She took a long sip of the tepid coffee and then set the mug down on the table in front of her. "On the other hand, it's what I love about him too. . ." However, as Mac recalled it, she'd saved the day in Paraguay. She'd been the one who wouldn't let Harm quit when his body was telling him to. She got them through for once.

"Have you told Harm how you feel about that?"

"No, I guess I never really considered how much it bothered me. . .I think if I tried to explain it to him, Harm'll probably think I am crazy." She snorted and imagined that perturbed look that Harm often got when he didn't quite understand something. It was a cute look, if you asked Mac.

McCool, attempting to take the conversation away from Mac's romantic involvement, zoned in on something she'd noticed from the moment the woman walked in. "How well are you sleeping?"

"You mean when I do?" Shrugging, she considered four nights previous when she'd nearly choked the life out of Harm. Mac brought her hand up to her face and pinched the bridge of her nose. When he was there, she tended to sleep _better. _Still, she woke up frequently and tended to sneak back into bed before Harm went in search for her. He did last night, though, and called her on it and on the previous nights when she thought she'd snuck back without notice. "I wake up several times during the night. . .I never used to sleep well, but. . .sometimes, I'll arrive at home and just sit in the dark. . .When Harm's there I do sleep better. . .It's just that I keep seeing _him_. . ." She stopped there, closing her mouth tightly so that her lips made a tight, thin line. The last thing she wanted was to bring up her last tango with Caled.

"_Him_ who? Harm?"

"I don't want to talk about this."

Not surprised, McCool settled into her seat and made a note on the notepad. The root of the problem was often difficult to discuss. At the very least, she wouldn't have to prod too much into other topics. "Colonel, with all due respect, that's exactly what you're here to do – talk." But he Marine said nothing, merely stood up and headed towards the window.

Mac stared out, watching the people walking outside of Bethesda. She wished that her emotions could be easily mended by the use of a band-aid. At the moment she felt raw and out of control. Her attack on Harm had scared her to death. "Do you know what brought me here? It wasn't the lack of sleep. . .Honestly, I thought I could handle all of this. . .I nearly killed Harm. . . I had a nightmare and. . .I tried to choke him, swearing that he was. . .he was. . .I can't do this." She let the train of thought fall completely. The very last thing she could do is divulge her last involvement with Caled. "I'm sorry. . .I just can't. . .I can't."

McCool quietly stood and walked towards her desk. She pulled out a thick, pen-like device from her drawer and then returned back to her seat. "I have something that may work in your case. Assuming you _do_ want to get better that is."

Reluctantly, Mac let her curiosity get the best of her. "What did you have in mind?"

The pen-like device had a top that McCool unscrewed to reveal a tiny light bulb. She placed the device on the table, standing it upright and allowing the light to shine brightly. "Hypnosis."

"Hypnosis?" Mac stared at the light, drawn to the luminescence that shined brightly. She'd heard of several persons who'd successfully combated phobias and other issues through it. "Do it." For once, she chose not to give things much thought and dove straight ahead blindly.

Fearing that her client may change her mind, McCool set herself to the task. "Okay Colonel. . .First of all I want you to relax into the chair, hands on your lap and both feet on the floor." She waited for Mac to adjust herself and then continued in a low, soothing tone. "Stare directly into the light. . .Ignore everything around you and just concentrate on the light. . ." Waiting for one full minute, she then continued the subtle commands. "Imagine that the light is wrapping around you, protecting you from anything that can harm you."

Mac felt warmth around her and a light that spread from the top of the bulb and over herself. She felt safe, secure and relaxed. Her eyes were half lidded, able to only see the light in front of her. McCool's gentle voice washed over her, instructing her out of the safe warmth and into a part of her life that she'd tried to erase. She was led through a series of commands, things that made her relax even further.

"Now you are in a room, there are two doors, one white, one black. . .The white door is your safe haven and you can run to it anytime you feel scared. . .The black door holds back your nightmares and everything that torments you in life. . .Now, I want you to go through the black door."

In her mind's eye, she saw the door and her arm rose to take the doorknob which she immediately turned. The door opened, giving way to nothing but darkness. Mac stepped past the threshold and away from the brightness which had surrounded her momentarily. The door slammed shut behind her and then, out of no where, it came. A vision so strong it nearly shook her out of the hypnotic state. She saw herself then, her body being shoved into the water by Yourlsef Caled. Breathing erratically, Mac tried to reclaim her breath. She felt like she was choking, like the water was dripping into her lungs forcing her to die an agonizing death.

"Colonel. . .remember the white light around you. . It will keep you safe. . .Now, tell me what you see."

Mac took a breath and then another, willing the odd feeling to subside. "I see myself. . .And the terrorist." In the vision, Caled tossed her to the ground, his laughter echoing against the tiled walls. "He is trying to drown me. . .I refuse to cooperate. . .He'll have to. . kill me." Then scene then shifted and this time, she saw the one thing she feared the most. "Oh God. . ." A sob escaped as she saw herself, arms and legs tied to the bed. She was naked, laying vulnerable and Caled removed some sort of ritual robe he'd been wearing. "No. . .Don't!" Harm was sitting in front of them, bound to the chair with heavy duct tape. The tape was also covering his mouth and all she could see was his eyes which were glowing in anger. "No!"

"Colonel, what do you see?"

"Caled. . .He's. . .he's trying to rape me. . .Harm's. . .he's tied up. . .can't save me." She shifted in her seat, trying to move her hands to get the imaginary terrorist off of her body. "Stop. . .I don't love you!" She yelled between sobs as the man covered her body with his own. "Please!"

McCool spoke firmly. "He can't hurt you, Colonel. . .You are in control now. . .You are in control."

As if it were magic, her restraints gave way and Mac found herself able to move. She kicked Caled between the legs and shoved him away with such a force that he landed on the other side of the room. The man died upon impact and the nightmare dissolved before her. "I did it. . .He's. . .dead."

"That's right. . .He's dead and can't hurt you if you don't let him. . .Now, keep going Colonel. . .Search out the nightmares."

She did as told, walking onward through the darkness and coming face to face with Harm. "Harm? What are you doing here?" In the vision, he was standing in front of her holding his sea bag in one hand. He didn't have to say a word, she knew he was leaving. "Why?" Instead of answering, she heard his thoughts, saw what was in his mind. He blamed her for everything that had happened. He'd grown to hate her and love wasn't an issue anymore. "Don't leave. . .Harm!" Harm's eyes were lifeless as he turned away and walked into the darkness.

Mac ran towards him, searching, but came up with nothing but blackness. "Harm! No!"

In the search she ran into Eddie, Dalton, Mic, Chris and Farrow. They were standing in a line, taunting her, each begging to be a part of her life again. Past them and far away she saw Harm's figure, deftly walking away, sea bag thrown over his shoulder. "Harm! Wait!" She tried to pass the men, but they all blocked her path, forcing her to stay. "Let me go! Harm!"

She fought to get past them, only to be shoved back forcefully. "Please, I don't want to lose him. . .I love him!"

McCool started to command Mac out of the trance and towards the white door that would lead to salvation. "Colonel, turn around. . .walk towards the black door."

Though Mac tried to push through the men, something in the tone of McCool's voice made her comply. Without giving anything else much thought, she turned and slowly headed towards the black door. She felt a pain in the center of her chest, an ache that she knew resulted from Harm's rejection of her. As she passed through the black door, the voice told her to step through the white one.

Doing as told, she walked into a bright room and in the center she could see the figure of a man standing there, seemingly waiting. And then the light gave way to her apartment, lit by only a glow of candlelight. "The light around you will start to dim and grow farther and farther away until it is nothing but a speck of light in front of you."

As McCool pulled her away, Mac slowly came out of the trance and eventually found herself staring at the light bulb, her body completely relaxed. She felt good and refreshed, like a weight had been taken off of her shoulders. "Wow."

Chuckling, McCool reached for the light, screwing the cap back on and placing it flat on the table. "That was the same word I used after I had my first session."

"Why does that work?" She never believed in hypnosis, some things were just too dumb looking to be successful no matter what quack backed it up.

"It's basically a trance-like state, similar to the way we get when we're reading a 'can't put it down' type of book." The explanation was fairly easy and the concept one that had been used for millions of years. "It's almost like daydreaming. We give you a suggestion, a mental 'push' and you are free to run wild with it. . .You get so relaxed fixating your sight on one thing that it's easier to place suggestions in your mind." McCool stood up and walked towards her desk. She took the pitcher of water and poured Mac a glass. "I really don't like to use it much. Some persons can't deal with the visualizations, but I thought you needed this to be easier."

Taking the glass, Mac drank greedily. "What does it all mean?"

McCool smiled. "That's what I want _you_ to figure out. . .Go home, relax and put some thought into what you saw. . .Write down your feelings and on our next session, it will be better for you."

"Does it ever get easier?" Despite the things she overcame in the past, the weight of this new demon seemed insurmountable. Mac knew why it was, of course. This time she actually had something to lose that was more valuable than her own life.

"It will." She assured and Mac believed her.

**1820 Local  
****Mac's Apartment  
****Georgetown**

Stepping into her apartment Mac had to do a double take. It just didn't seem as dark as it had a few days prior. There was a soft glow that could only come from the use of many, many candles. The soft music was completely unexpected, but it was pleasant, as was the smells coming from the kitchen.

Despite the physical and emotional exhaustion that she felt, just knowing that someone cared _that_ much for her, lifted her spirits. "Hey there, beautiful."

Harm came from her room, wiping damp hands on the front of his jeans. "I know you said you'd want some alone time after the session. . .so I am gonna scoot. . .Dinner's in the oven, the plates are set on the table. I bought you some rocky road ice cream and that cheesy movie you love so much." He stood in front of her rocking on his heels waiting for her to argue with him or use that infamous "I'm a Marine" speech.

Instead, Mac leaned forward, stood on her toes and planted a kiss on his lips. She slipped her arms around his neck and in turn, his arm came around her waist. He drew her closer, moving her body flush against his. Breaking the kiss, Mac stared up at him with a dreamy expression. "Is there enough food for two?"

"Yes." He had been hoping she'd ask him to stay. Solitude during a trying situation was never ideal and he worried about her. The last thing he wanted to do was lose her, not because of some creep that had threatened to turn their lives upside-down.

Mac sighed gratefully. "Good, because I want you to stay. . .I am tired of us pushing each other away, Harm. . . I want this to work."

"I was hoping you'd say something like that." Unexpectedly, he picked her up, carrying Mac in his arms as he walked towards the bedroom.

"Harm!" She yelped, chuckling when he headed towards the bathroom. "What the hell are you doing?"

He lowered her down and then began to remove her uniform. "You need a shower, _I_ need a shower. . .Maybe we should conserve water."

Never one to go against the environment, Mac helped Harm out of his t-shirt. "I like the way you think."

A couple of hours later, after their shower and dinner, Harm sat on the sofa with Mac's head on his lap. He was playing with her short locks, his fingers enjoying the feel of the silky strands. On the TV Ali McGraw and Ryan O'Neal's 'Love Story' was playing during one of the tear-jerker moments. "_Love means never having to say you're sorry._" The famous quote and tag-line, was uttered by O'Neal's character.

Turning slightly, Mac glanced up at Harm. "I _am_ sorry."

"Me too, Mac." He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. "But, we gotta stop apologizing for something that wasn't our fault. . .I'm sorry if me following you to Paraguay pissed you off, but I couldn't stay home. . .I couldn't lose you and I'd do it again."

"I'm sorry for pushing you away when Mic left and for all of the time I've spent pushing you away since. . .I'm sorry for not visiting you at the brig and. . ."

Harm placed a hand over her lips, covering her words. "We have to stop apologizing for the past." With a grin he said, "Love means never having to say you're story."

She smiled back at him and then sat up. "So you actually want to be stuck in a relationship with me?"

"I don't see it as being 'stuck.' I see it as getting everything I've ever wanted." He corrected, running a hand up and down her spine. "I can't keep pretending I don't want you, because I do want you. . .And I know for a fact that you want me the same way."

"Sure of yourself, aren't you?"

He grinned guilty and shrugged. "I'm a former jet jock, babe. Confidence is everything to a jet jock."

"Mmmm." Mac stood up and moved in front of Harm. She then lowered herself onto him, her knees on either side of his legs. "Sometimes this whole thing working out tends to worry me. . .There's so much more to lose now."

"I know. . . But it's a chance I am willing to take." There was a sadness that Harm saw in her eyes that he longed to take away. A fear that he knew matched his own. Harm had never been so scared before when it came to relationships and with Mac, if they took a chance and lost, it would be the end of him. Still, there was a deep feeling that made him realize she was _the one_. How else could anyone justify the reasons why they always came back to each other? She was made for him and he for her and nothing was going to ruin that. "Do you believe in fate?"

"Well. . .it put us together, sort of." Mac couldn't help but stare into his eyes. A magnificent mixture of blue and green that soothed her soul.

"Fate can keep us together _forever._" Harm smiled and his eyebrows rose in a challenge that was met with a kiss. Mac chose not to argue and surrendered to his notion of 'forever.' She wanted that too, longed for it with every fiber of her very being. If Harm believed in forever, then she would too.


	25. Promises Kept

**Chapter 25 – Promises Kept  
****One Month Later  
****1345 Local  
****Andrew's Airforce Base**

Harm stepped out of the COD and slipped on a pair of sunglasses. It was a gorgeous day, complete with a wisp or two of puffy white clouds and perfectly blue skies. He took his duffle, swung it over his shoulders and waited with Skates. "Someone picking you up? If not, Adam and I can give you a ride." She asked before noticing the vintage, cherry red Corvette and the brunette leaning against it.

"Oh yeah, I have a ride." His grin went up in wattage and he nearly bound towards Mac. She was dressed casually in faded blue jeans that hugged her hips just perfectly and a 'v' neck grey pullover. She was quite the sight for his sore eyes.

In the middle of her therapy with McCool, Harm was sent off to the USS Patrick Henry for a murder investigation which landed him in a Tomcat with Skates. He completed his quals and caught the bad guy, but there was an exhilaration that was missing. Cases without Mac just weren't fun. He needed her argumentative side with her dispassionate plans.

He just needed her, period.

"Hey there, flyboy." Mac met him halfway and eagerly took him into her arms. She kissed him as if she'd missed him for years. And it may as well have been, especially seeing as she'd just gone through the most emotionally draining time of her life.

His arms tightened around her and he lifted Mac up slightly. Their kiss didn't waiver despite the cat calls and cheers. Putting her back on her feet Harm stepped away just enough to look in her eyes. "You're out of uniform, Colonel." He grinned, looking up and down her body.

"It's my day off, Commander." She replied and then nudged him towards the car. "Sorry for bringing your baby, but this day screamed 'convertible' to me." Mac walked around the vehicle and settled in the driver's side, much to Harm's amusement.

Harm hopped in the passenger's seat and placed the duffle in between his legs. "It's fine, Mac. I trust you."

**1555 Local  
****Mac's Apartment  
****Georgetown**

Mac was laying on her stomach, head turned to the side and resting on her crossed arms. A satisfied smirk played on her lips. The dark red sheets barely covered her body and Harm was taking full advantage of her nakedness. He began kissing her lower back and then licked his way up her spine, enjoying the little noises she made as a response to his touch. "I missed you." She whispered.

"I love you." He responded as he settled his body next to hers and pulled Mac close. "I got teased over the e-mails you wrote."

"Oh yea?" Her grin was infectious. "I assume that you only shared the G-rated ones, right?"

Harm chuckled, "The X rated ones turned me on so bad. . .I don't think anyone wanted me running around the ship with a massive hard on. . . So, yeah, I kept those to myself." His index finger toyed with her hip and a little birthmark that had captivated him since it was discovered.

"Why were you sharing those e-mails anyway?" She sighed when he reached a sensitive spot above her hip bone.

It was a 'military' thing, so to speak. Sharing letters about your family. To Harm, it had more to do with pride. "I just liked showing you off." He said and Mac's response was to laugh "When's your last session with McCool?"

"Next week. . .And, I have to say, I feel better."

"Hard to admit, isn't it?"

Mac sighed, was there anyone that actually wanted to admit that seeing a psychiatrist helped? "Yes. .But, she's really wonderful and I've learned things about myself."

"I did too when I went. . .It's funny, all of the hang ups we have that we don't even know about."

"Mmm."

They lay together in silence for several long minutes. Silence that wasn't awkward, just perfectly welcome. Harm had learned that sometimes, in the silence, he would find the answers he was looking for. He was a damned lucky man with the right job, the right friends and the right girl. Moving out from behind Mac, he reached down to his pants and fiddled around through the pockets. "What is it?"

Harm turned to her and smiled. "Just something I got for you." He'd bought it before the return of Caled when life seemed to be falling so perfectly into place that he needed to make it permanent. He had meant it when he asked to move in with her and really didn't care how it affected his career. He was more than willing to give it all up for her, if need be. Maybe it was time to let go of that lifeline and reach for something more tangible. He settled back into bed and satisfied her curiosity. "Marry me?"

Between his thumb and index finger he held a small velvet box inside which sat a white gold, diamond engagement ring. The stone wasn't a huge one, with everything Harm knew about Mac, she wasn't into extravagant jewelry, but he had wanted the ring to be different and opted for a stone with a heart shaped cut.

Mac stared at it, shock evident by the expression on her face. This had truly been out of the blue. After suggesting that they move in, nothing else had been discussed. Between work, Caled's attack and Mac's recovery, she honestly thought he'd forgotten and opted not to push the issue until she felt well again. Her eyes connected with his own which carried a familiar look that she'd seen for so long and only now understood.

_Love._

The look he gave her that night on the Admiral's porch, the same look when they'd locked eyes at a point when she'd decided to stop waiting and marry another. It was the same look he gave her in Sydney, when he'd asked her to wait without telling her what to wait for. The same look when they stood facing a mirror in Paraguay, her back against his chest, their bodies so intimately close that it ended their dance and began a new one. It was love and she was a fool to have never seen it.

Exhaling sharply, Mac released the breath she'd been holding. The look in his eyes turned to patiently expectant. Harm knew that she wouldn't say no, instinctively realizing that she'd desired the same thing that he had. "Yes. . .Yes, I'll marry you."

Harm crushed her body to him in a tight embrace that left her breathless. "I want to see how this looks on you." He'd been itching to get that ring on her finger from the moment of purchase. Carefully, he slipped it onto her ring finger and then placed a kiss on her knuckles.

As most women do, Mac raised her hand up, examining the way the stone caught in the little bit of light shining through the louvered windows. "It's beautiful."

"You're beautiful." He pulled her to him and Mac settled against his chest, placing her hand over his heart. With her head turned she could keep watch of the ring mesmerized at how different it felt _this_ time. When Chris had asked, the ring was stolen and entirely too big for her finger. Mic had the right size but she never really felt what she should have for him. This time, it was different, she felt complete and blissfully whole.

It made her want to let him in on a little secret of hers. She bit her lower lip and took a deep, cleansing breath. "I have an engagement present for you."

"Engagement present?" Harm raised a brow in confusion. "You knew I'd ask you to marry me?" Had she seen the ring and decided to play a good sport about it? He'd gone through hell trying to find just the right hiding place for it. "You found the ring, didn't you?"

Mac grinned mischievously. "Nope. I hoped you'd ask, but I didn't think you would, not yet anyway." She sat up and leaned up against the wall. "I hope you like it because there's no way in hell I can return it." Her grin spread into a wide smile.

Harm sat up next to her. "What did you get me?"

"It's more like something _you_ got _me_." She said, trying the cryptic approach which seldom worked with men. Her hands settled on her lap, just against her stomach which she rubbed unconsciously.

"I don't understand."

"I'm pregnant." Mac didn't whisper, nor did she shy away from the secret she'd been hiding for the past three weeks. She wanted to tell him sooner, but opted to be on firmer ground before such a life altering event could be entered into the mix. In truth, she'd been tempted to tell him once he disembarked the COD. "I know we never really discussed. . .oof!" A second later, he had her pinned up against him, her body crushed against the wall of his chest.

Harm rocked her back and forth. "How long have you known?"

"Three weeks. I wanted to tell you sooner, but. . ."

"How far along are you?" He pushed her back slightly and studied her still flat belly.

Mac grinned. "Almost two months."

"And how are you? Are you alright? Is the baby?" He couldn't help but press a hand gently against her belly. Suddenly, his face went white as he studied the mess they'd made with the sheets. "Should we have. . ._you know_?"

Chucking, Mac pulled him into her arms. "Yeah, Harm. It's safe to make love, I promise. And the baby and I are fine. . .Lucky, actually."

"Lucky? Why lucky?" He didn't like the way she said that, the relief in her voice that could only have meant she'd been worried. Harm pulled away and studied her carefully.

And Mac _had_ been worried when, just after starting her sessions with Vera McCool, she'd started to have a dull pain near her lower back. At fist, she thought it was due to her tango with Caled. It was her general practitioner who had suggested she go to the OBGYN and the pains were possibly due to a problem with her reproductive system. She'd managed to hide the appointment from Harm, which wasn't too difficult considering he was gearing up for his trip to the Seahawk. "I was having some pains, went to my GP who sent me to the OBGYN that found that I have something called endometriosis."

"Endo-what? Is that. . .like cancer?" He shivered at the thought.

"No. It's basically tissues that grow around the reproductive organs. If it gets severe, the woman becomes infertile. After I have the baby, I need to go back and probably have surgery. It's an outpatient procedure with minimal recovery time." She placed a hand on his cheek and ran it down and over his chest. Mac hated worrying him. "I'm okay, Harm. The baby is okay."

"You're sure?" Harm took a deep breath, everything he ever wanted was in the palm of his hand and the fear of it suddenly being taken away scared him. "Mac?"

"It's a higher risk pregnancy, but Dr. Chen is going to have me monitored extensively and opted for a C-section on whatever date we set."

The weigh of the moment, of having everything they ever desired, was welcomed. For once, happiness, true happiness, was just a touch away. "I guess all we'll have to worry about is work." Harm said but his tone of voice didn't mirror any concern of his. He was willing to put his life and his job on the line for her once and he'd do it again. JAG wasn't the only show in town. For that matter, nothing said that they would have to stay in Washington.

Mac grinned. "You don't sound too concerned about it."

"Neither do you."

"We'll figure it out, we always do." She snuggled closer to him, enjoying the peace that only came from true contentment. "I love you."

"I love you too." Unconsciously, Harm's hand stroked Mac's flat belly. She was going to be utterly gorgeous with a big, round belly. "To think that almost a year ago you showed up at my doorstep pregnant."

Mac chuckled, she'd forgotten about that aspect of their adventure. Sobering, she remembered one intricate moment of the past which involved the two of them and their reelections. "Remember when we stood in front of the mirror at the hotel?"

"Mmmm." The memory was a precious one that would have been forgotten if she hadn't mentioned it. "We looked good together."

"We still do." Mac placed her hands over his own and closed her eyes. If someone would have told her that they'd wind up together after such a chaotic trip, she would have surely laughed in their face. Just when she'd stopped trying to be with Harm and opted to just have him as a friend, he'd turned the tables, followed her on a mission that could have been the death of him and still managed to steal her heart.

Harm tightened his hold on her. He could faintly remember Mac mentioning something about his interests fading or some nonsense of the sort. If he'd been true to his heart, his interest in his Marine began in a rose garden and only grew in leaps and bounds. It wasn't quite love at first sight, but he had fallen and never knew. Perhaps if he'd admitted it to himself he would have stopped all of the heartache and just learned to be happy. Love was often the antidote to instincts, he noted as his mind took him through a trip of the past. Mic, Renee, and all of the others that came between them – instinctual relationships that were formed either out of spite or loneliness when you couldn't (or wouldn't) have the person you wanted the most.

Well, now they had each other and neither was willing to let go. They'd promised each other Forever and sealed it with a kiss. "So I guess we gotta give our baby girl a name." Harm said with a twinge of mirth in his voice. If their past dictated anything, it was that their kid's name would be a very, very, very long debate.

Mac couldn't be more than pleased with the challenge. "What makes you think the baby's a she?"

"Mmmm. Well, a little girl with my brains and your looks." He knew he'd have to spend her teenage years beating the boys away with a bat, but that was alright. A mini-Mac, to him, would be adorable.

She turned in his arms to face him. "What if _he_ has _my_ brains and _your_ looks?"

"That could work too." He inched forward and kissed her deeply.

Breaking the kiss, Mac sighed happily and turned again so that she was relaxing in his arms. "I guess you really _do_ keep your promises, sailor."

"You have no idea." Harm said, knowing that his next promise would require him to love, honor and cherish Mac for the rest of his life. It was a promise that he intended to keep forever.

**THE END.**


	26. Author's Note

And they lived happily ever after...

Just a few notes from me.

I just realized I didn't stick any author's note or anything at the end of the story. Sorry about that! I was psyched about finishing it and I was at the spa at the time. LOL!!

Anyway... THANK YOU for the support, funny e-mails and just for reading the thing.

SO, what's up next? First a little let down, NO sequel, no epiloge, nada. You guys can decide if Harm and Mac had a boy, a girl, an iguana or whatever. We need a LITTLE mystery from time to time. ;-) And this story needed to be put to rest for the sake of my sanity. LOL! Some parts were MURDER to write. I would sit there and be like "mmmm." ANd... nothing.

So, really, what's up next? Well, since you doods voted for the Diane story (It's what V and I are calling it) "As Different As Night and Day" is up next. I've finished chapters 1-3, working on four and on my brainstorming/timeline sort of thing.

I decided to do a few changes to the original place the story would take place and moved JAG HQ to San Diego. I wanted them out of DC/VA but wanted to keep the staff as is. Sue me. :P

Now, don't freak when you hear "The Diane Story" it's easier for us to call it that way. ADANAD is just too funny an acronymn. ;) Sounds like something you'd find in the Amazon or something. Diane is very much alive in the story. There was never anything with Holbarth so it's not like she's been hiding, in a coma, part of a CIA plot or just felt like desserting the Navy. The woman is alive and well and her near-death thingy didn't happen. Harm didn't have his ramp strike (Until the start of THIS story) so he's a pilot and has nothing to do with JAG, up to now. ;)

BEFORE that gets posted, as I want to have it mostly finished or partially finished, etc. I am posting one that I wrote for the 10.5 Summer Season over at Friends of JAG. I am editing out some bits so that it can fit at any timeline but with Harm and Mac as a couple. It's called "Intrinsic" and has to do with the past and the Titanic.

I just want you guys to read something in-between stories.

So there we go... all caught up and all that fun stuff. THank you very much again guys!

Jackie


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